


Prince Among Men

by PurpleBurstofPaperBirds



Category: Aquaman (2018), DCU
Genre: Beaches, F/M, Slow Burn, Some angst, enemies to friends to lovers sorta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-03-06 04:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 45,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18843388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleBurstofPaperBirds/pseuds/PurpleBurstofPaperBirds
Summary: Takes place some years prior to the events of Aquaman. Orm Marius meets a human after venturing too close to the surface world. Could she be his confidante?





	1. The Sea

The waves were lazy and hushed as they slapped against the sides of the boat. It was night. The sea was like ink reflecting garbled slivers of moonlight. She was the small boat's only passenger, having turned off the motor to lay across the wooden bench in near-silence. Nothing greeted her but the steady sloshing of water against the craft. She was well aware that her presence out here was a disruption to the natural sea, and she could feel the ocean pushing back against her. In fact, she could feel the steady tide pushing her back towards the marina. But she knew that for now, beyond the lights of her coastal town and away from the noise of people, she could have some peace.

She traced the tiny stars in the sky with her eyes, following patterns as she made them up, naming new constellations for herself. And then, a rush of water hit the side of her boat off to the left, out of sync with the previous waves. She shot upwards into a sitting position, nearly tipping the little boat, and grasped the side to peer down into the waves. She had always hoped to spot a killer whale out here, although sightings were rare this close to a town. She hoped the disturbance in the water had been something of that size--it had certainly felt like it. Straining her eyes to peer down into the thick, black water, she could make out a vague luminescence beyond the reflections of the stars. There was something gliding past, away from the sea and towards the harbor town. And whatever it was, it was glowing. 

Not wanting to alert the creature to her presence, she picked up a pair of oars from the bottom of the craft and began rowing. She knew she was hopelessly outpaced by the thing already, but hoped she could catch up with it when it inevitably slowed near the marina. She paddled quietly and with the longest strokes she could muster, covering the distance slowly but surely. She had since lost sight of the glowing thing, but knew that she would see it again if she only pushed forwards. The brightest lights of town stretched their way across the waves towards her, in bright squiggling lines. As she neared, she realized that it would be nearly impossible to catch another glimpse of the glowing thing this close to the town. It painted the sea with its lights, obscuring her view of what was underneath.

She was about to put the oars back in the bottom and turn on the motor again, heading back out to sea, when she saw a a vague form emerge from the water. It looked somewhat like a person on horseback--but from the sea?

The figure was wearing something sharp and metallic--or maybe it was made of metal--and it had a spiky circlet on its head. She removed the oars from the water as quietly as possible, laying them on the bench gently. She watched the figure, lowering herself in the boat, hoping to evade detection. The figure remained in its place, drifting only slightly back and forth in the waves. It was about 20 feet away from her, and she knew she was too close to paddle backwards, so she remained still as well. The figure appeared to be gazing towards the town. Without warning, it submerged itself in the water. She panicked, wondering if it was headed her way next. She grabbed the oars, without placing them in the water yet, and weighed her options. After a few more moments, she concluded that the figure had not passed her again. The waves against the boat hadn't changed, hitting the sides in the same regular pattern. There was no pulse in the water like there had been when it passed her. A few more minutes passed. Nothing emerged, nothing approached her, nothing had happened.

Doubting her own perception, she placed the oars in the bottom of the boat and started the motor. Docking it in the marina earlier than usual, she hopped on her bike and pedaled home, finding it hard to fall asleep.


	2. The Camera

It had been a day since she'd first sighted the figure. She worked at a cafe on the coastline, and she had caught herself casting glances out the spacious windows and towards the sea more often than usual. She was accustomed to looking for the unusual in life, but had never stumbled upon something that so completely fit the description. She had spent spare time at work more than happy to hear the Big Fish stories of old fishermen and dock workers who came in for a cup of coffee and some breakfast, entertaining every odd tale with the ears of an eager audience. She had heard so many things over the years that she knew the sea was something which defied prediction. That being said, she had never anticipated the blessing of seeing an oddity herself.

After the workday ended, she hustled home and poked at her dinner, unable to focus on eating it. Eventually she gave up and wrapped the food in plastic, sticking it in the fridge for later. Even though she only went to the marina a few times a week, only when she really needed the peace and quiet, she knew she'd have to set out again tonight. As the sun set, she grabbed her camera and biked down the hill to the docks. She motored out across the red waves to her usual spot, much earlier than usual, a tiny slice of the sun still peeking over the horizon. The water was still once again, and there was no wind. She settled into the bottom of the boat, laying with her ear near the boards, watching tiny trailing clouds drift out of sight as the sky darkened. She watched more silvery clouds skate into view, moving slowly, traversing the sky. Stars blinked in and out of sight in their wake. The clouds glided away from the coast, dissolving quietly into the dark blue backdrop. She had lost track of how long she had been laying in the boat. Glancing at her watch, she saw it had only been about an hour. She hadn't even been at the marina by this time last night. It would be awhile. The waves continued to rock her steadily, whispering on the hull. The star swam in tiny circles above her. She closed her eyes for just a moment.

...

Heavy, wet, salt in her eyes and splashing on her face woke her. Coughing, snorting water out of her nose, she bolted upright once again and nearly capsized. Her first instinct was to grab the camera, ensuring it had not gotten wet. Grabbing for the spot on the bench where she had left it, her hand hit the rugged wood and nothing else. Looking all around her, she could see nothing on the waves. But then--

The sound of something emerging from the water greeted her on the other side of the boat. She turned around to see the figure of a man looking back at her. He was seated on the back of some large creature with dark, leathery skin. It remained submerged, aside from that patch of its back. The man was clad in the same metal as she had seen on the figure last night, wearing the same sleek metal crown. His pale hair stuck to his forehead, soaked by the waves. She gasped.

"What are you doing out here?" the man demanded. She opened her mouth to speak, and stammered.

"I was just, uh, taking a nap." she replied. "Who are you? Why'd you dump all that water on my face? I'm--" She broke off into a sharp cough. Her nose still stung with the saltwater.

"You have a camera." he responded. "You were here last night too. You were going to take a picture of me." His tone was even and authoritative, but she could tell he was a young man--possibly her age. His eyes were a sharp shade of teal-blue. He did not avert her gaze.

"I was here to take pictures of the sunset." she responded. "I fell asleep after that. Give me back my camera and leave me alone," she snapped, unsure why she was lying to him. The figure was not what she had expected. He glanced at the soaked camera in his hand with a sneer.

"I know you're lying to me." he responded. She scoffed. 

"Listen, I couldn't take pictures with that anymore even if I wanted to. You've ruined it. I don't care who you are or how you're out here...floating...I just want my property back. I'll leave you alone after this." She felt herself bargaining with him without even wanting to. Something about him made her shrink away, in doubt of herself.

"You keep talking about your property. Do you even know that you are trespassing?" he mused, tossing the sopping device into the bottom of the boat. The battery compartment sprung open with the impact and a few double-A's spilled out and rolled around. She frowned.

"What, like it's your ocean?" she scoffed, quietly, stuffing batteries back into the camera. She found that she was unable to voice her disdain as loudly as she had wanted.

"Actually, it is. So keep out." he replied. With a smirk, he submerged below the waves and she felt a pulse of water smack the boat as he and his strange mount sped away. She hesitated in silence, eyes glued to the spot where he had disappeared. The absurdity of the remark struck her as she fired up the motor. She laughed, hysterically, all the way back to the marina. 

When she got home, she set the ruined camera on the kitchen counter and climbed upstairs to rinse her face off before bed.


	3. Construction

If it were not for the traces of sticky saltwater in her hair and on the sides of her temples the next day, she could have sworn she had dreamed the figure. The broken camera on the kitchen counter confirmed that her reality was more unpleasant than some restless sleep. Not only had she met him face to face, but he was also the furthest thing possible from some sort of whimsical, carefree merman. There was something sour about the way he carried himself. Something like an authority without any weight behind it. She pondered this over her breakfast, some reheated fish tacos from the night before, and then rode her bike to work as usual. She glided around the cafe that day without casting a single glance at the ocean, pouring her concentration into taking orders. Unlike the day before, one of her work friends, Jess, was also waitressing today.

"You're fast today," Jess remarked during a pause in activity.

"I met a rude guy last night," she responded. "Trying to keep my mind off it."

"Just your luck," Jess responded with a laugh. "I hope you see him again. You're picking up all the slack around here. I've hardly had to do anything."

"Don't count on it," she replied. "I don't even have his number."

The workday ended, and she brought home a grilled cheese from the kitchen for dinner. She took tiny bites of it, standing in front of the kitchen window, which overlooked the sea. Her house was on a hill near the landlocked end of town. From this elevation, she could see most of the little city. There was a main road along the coast that branched off towards the marina and the cafe, both of which were small squares from here. Most of the architecture in town was old-fashioned, including her own tiny home, but the buildings near the coast stayed updated because that was where most out-of-towners liked to stay. 

They were building a hotel in an empty meadow between her property and the ocean, which would obscure much of her view someday. She gazed at the silent construction equipment as it lay dead in the dirt lot, unable to focus on it. The sunlight glinting on the ocean beyond kept drawing her attention outwards. Reluctantly, she took the last bite of her sandwich. Of course she was going there again. There was nothing else to do.

She coasted down the dirt road to the marina, parked her bike outside, and climbed into her boat once again. There was an old man who worked this dock, Theo, and he stopped her before she could untie her craft from the dock.

"You're going out there again?" he remarked. "This is a bit excessive, even for you."

"It's relaxing." she replied.

"Loving the sea will make you crazy." he said. He walked away before she could respond, and she unraveled the rope and pushed out anyways. He was full of esoteric statements. That was just one of many.

She sat on the waves, looking at the ocean this time, afraid to lay down in the boat. She had woken up with a sore throat from inhaling the water last night. She kept thinking about his general disregard for her health. It was one thing to take the camera. It was another thing entirely to almost drown her. The sun sank again and she regretted not taking any photos of the sunset the night before. That one had been better somehow. Even if she had, the film would have been ruined, so it didn't really matter.

She sat forever. She glanced at the stars occasionally, unable to concentrate on them. She stuck her hand in the water and waved it back and forth, feeling the pressure of the water against her palm, feeling the eddies form around her separated fingers. She wondered if sticking her hands in the water would alert him to her "trespassing" presence any faster. The water was cold, and the wind picked up over time. She wished for a sweater. She rested her arm on the side of the boat, her head on her arm, gazing towards the port. She counted the headlights of cars she could see on the coastal road, as small as the stars from out here. They were fleeting, coming and going almost too fast to count at times. Other times, the road was completely absent of any light or movement. Then she would turn her attention back to the empty sea. This continued until she could stand the inactivity no longer. He couldn't have been real. He wasn't going to show up again.

She decided to go home after three uneventful hours. As she fired up the motor to speed back into port, she let it idle for a moment, hoping that the sound would attract his attention as a last resort. He didn't show. She went home and fell into fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and views so far! This fic has already gained more attention than I thought it would. I will do my best to keep regular updates coming :)


	4. The Sea Dragon

The next day was Saturday, a day off. She biked around town aimlessly, unable to stay in one place for too long. At one point she lingered outside the hotel, but there was no construction today, nothing moving, nothing to capture her attention for long. Around noon she realized that she hadn't eaten breakfast. She was close to the cafe, so she pulled in and locked up her bike. She sat at the counter on a creaky barstool, and Jess took her order, lamenting that she had just finished her own lunch break. 

When the toast and eggs arrived, she ate them quickly and with more appetite than she'd had the past few days. A fisherman she recognized showed up halfway through her meal and sat two stools away. He was a friend of her father's. She finished her meal. It seemed like he had only come in for a drink. Hoping that she wouldn't disturb him too much, she approached him to ask if he had any news. 

"I haven't had a good sea story in a few months." he said.

"Have you heard of anything out of the ordinary from other sailors?" she asked. "Anything at all?"

"Fishing has been slow, and a lot of us have been moving out further to pull in the same hauls we used to. I don't know if I'll even stick around here much longer. I've heard things are better further south."

"What do you think is causing it?" she asked, knowing that the answer would probably be a vague fishing metaphor. 

"King Triton must be upset," he chuckled. "You'll have to take it up with him."

"That's the cheesiest thing I've ever heard," she responded, laughing back. "but if I run into him, I'll be sure and ask. I'll let you eat in peace," she said, as his order arrived. 

"Say hi to your father for me," he said, bidding her farewell. She responded with a "Will do!" on her way out the door.

...

There was nothing good to do in town on a lazy day like this. Usually she'd be content to read a book, or go take pictures of the town, or sleep in, but all of those restful activities seemed impossible at the moment. There was nothing on TV, but there was a movie theater in the next town over, and it was only a few miles away, so she spent the afternoon there. She rode the bus back after dark. The bus stop was only a block away from the marina, which was where she had parked her bike anyways. Before she knew it, she was back in the little boat and pushing away from the dock. After a little while, she had reached her usual distance from shore. The tiny town seemed even smaller from out here.

She usually left her phone at home when she went out on the sea, but she'd had it in her pocket so she could listen to music on the bus. Ditching the headphones, and all sense of subtlety, she scrolled to a playlist at random and let the music stream into the open air. She sat with her head resting on her hands, staring at the horizon, without really seeing anything. She tapped her foot on the boat in time with the music. As her thin-soled shoe made contact with the wood one more time, the familiar pulse of water hit the other side of the hull. She snatched up her phone and paused the music, holding it out of harms way--hopefully. 

The man emerged from the water off to her side, appearing without so much as a splash. She almost hadn't noticed him. This confirmed her suspicions that he had chosen to wake her up, in the cruelest method at his disposal, on purpose. She stared him down, and the two remained in silence for a moment. Her gaze came to rest on a curved-handled weapon, holstered to his hip. It resembled a gun, but it appeared to be formed from one smooth piece. His hand rested nearby.

"I told you not to come back here." he spoke at last, in the same quiet and even tone as last time. She met his gaze, startled by the break in the silence.

"I don't take orders from you," she replied. "I didn't even know who you were, the first time I saw you. But I think I do now."

"Oh?" he responded. "That's impossible."

"No it isn't." He scowled. "You're King Triton. Or at least, that's what the fishermen call you." Her face flushed red, knowing that she sounded like an idiot, knowing that wasn't really his name--but maybe he would tell her the truth if she made herself look like a fool.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." he replied. "My name is Orm Marius, not Triton. No king of the ocean has ever been named Triton. And you don't even know the Fishermen. If you did, you'd know that's not what they call me." In this barrage of commentary, he was losing a bit of his authoritative tone. She couldn't tell whether he was upset or amused, but somehow she had drawn forth an emotion. He cleared his throat in the silence.

"'Orm' sounds dumber than 'Triton,'" she pressed. "What was your mother thinking?"

"Do not speak about my mother." he hissed. "I told you not to come back here, and you deliberately disrespected me. You've made all this noise, and you've attracted all this attention--"

"I think I know why you're so upset," she interrupted. "You're not supposed to be out here either, are you?" He paused, then scoffed.

"The ocean is mine. Of course I can be out here." he replied, regaining his cool and detached tone.

"You're a little young to be king of the ocean." she responded. "I'm jealous. You must really have your life together, Your Majesty."

"Don't mock me." he responded. "Go home." 

"Does your authority extend to land?" she asked. "You can't order me around like that. I've never even heard of you, and suddenly you're the king of everything. I have no way of knowing whether or not you're lying."

"Go away, or your people won't be able to fish here any longer."

"You can't control this part of the ocean if you aren't allowed to be here." she responded.

"You're staking your livelihood on a conjecture."

"I'm convinced it's more than that. It's the truth. And besides, I don't fish." He was silent for a few moments. The creature beneath him stirred. He sighed. "What is that, anyways?" she asked.

"This?" he asked, gesturing to the animal that bobbed up and down. Only its back was visible above water, but it had luminescent fins that trailed in the drifting currents below surface.

"Yes. I've never seen anything like it before."

"Well, of course you haven't." he responded. "It's a Sea Dragon. It was imported." The creature shifted again.

"That tells me nothing about it." she replied. "By the way, have you ever tried being polite?" Her words were sharp, but her voice softened. "It might get you a little further when interacting with strangers."

"I've been trained in diplomacy, yes." he responded. "But I don't need to be polite to trespassers."

"Even ignorant trespassers?"

"Especially those." he replied.

"Can I ask you one thing?"

"You already have, technically."

"Well, another thing, then." He nodded. "Why were you here, a few nights ago? I mean, why were you watching the town?"

"That's none of your concern." he responded. She waited a moment, hoping the silence would prompt him to say something else. "I was just...looking for something. Something that was misplaced around here."

"Can I help you find it?" she asked. "To make up for trespassing?" he crossed his arms, looking at the waves. "Please. I love the sea. I want to be able to venture out here from time to time. Maybe we could work something out."

"I thought you were convinced that I didn't have any power over this place."

"I still am, but I don't want you interrupting me when I'm trying to relax." she responded. "I won't buy a new camera until I know you're not going to break it again."

"You cannot help me find it," he responded at last. "But if you're quiet, and you don't come here too often, and you don't stray out any further, I can allow it." She smiled. " _Just_ for now." he added, hastily.

"Thank you. I hope you can find what you lost, whatever it is." He nodded, already submerging again. Without another word, he was gone.


	5. The Storm

She hadn't been out to the marina in two days. Talking to Orm had given her some closure, although she was still trying to decide whether he was purposefully antagonistic or just incredibly self-centered. Aside from his personality, he seemed to be a normal person, albeit one who could breathe underwater. There was a lot to unpack. She felt like leaving the whole box unopened would be much easier.

Sunday passed uneventfully. It was another day off, and she was able to sleep in this time. Her dreams had been laced with images of the ocean and the vague movements of sea dragons, as he had called his creature. Which was stranger, the dragon or the man? She couldn't decide. 

She searched for a new camera online and found one that seemed to be waterproof. Even though it was more expensive than her previous model, she went ahead and ordered it. Who knew how long Orm would allow her to drift in "his" ocean before his mood soured again? She rode her bike down past the construction zone again. They would be building more of the skeletal wooden framework again tomorrow, and she would return to work at the same time. Things would shift like the tides, but in the end it would all be the same routine. Instead of sailing again that night, she rode her bike up the seaside cliffs and sat in the tall grass to watch the sunset. She went home and dreamed, again, of the sea.

Monday was the busiest day at the diner. She was up to her neck in orders. Locals and out-of-towners alike bustled about in the spaces between the seats, chatting and relaxing and blocking her own movement through them. The wide windows of the cafe, which overlooked the ocean, were mostly obstructed by patrons who wanted to meditate on visions of the slate-colored waves under the gray sky. The weather had turned gloomy. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to take to the sea tonight--which was a shame, because busy work days like this usually necessitated some time on the open waters to cool down. 

The crowd trailed off and grew again throughout the day. Eventually it was closing time, and she rode her bike straight home, knowing the weather was too sour to venture out. The rain began before she made it home, and by the time she entered the house, she was soaked. She removed her soaking sweater and shoes at the door, leaving a tiny trail of droplets behind as she traversed the silent space. She took a hot shower, ate some dinner, and went to bed as the wind howled outside. Her sleep was unsteady. Twice, she woke up to the bellows of thunder that shook the tiny house. Her home had never been struck by lightning, but she knew it was only a matter of time at the top of the hill. She tried not to think about this.

The next day at work was less of a hassle, and the weather had turned sweet again. The bike ride there had been obstructed by pieces of driftwood and other debris on the road, which looked odd against the clear sunlight. The dirt paths were ridged after so much rainfall. It had been an uncharacteristically fierce storm for late spring. Several road signs had even toppled. An old pine on the outskirts of town was now a smoldering shell of itself after being struck by last night's lightning. There was a faint smell of singed pine sap on the breeze throughout the day. 

After work, she traversed the rutted dirt roads to the marina to see if she could go drifting on the sea today. When she arrived, she couldn't see her boat from the road. She thought that perhaps it had drifted underneath the dock.

She ran along the boards, past two bruised pontoons and a flipped-over sailboat. Her little rowboat, previously tied to the very end of the dock, had vanished. There was nothing but blank water in its spot. Getting on her knees, she peered in vain under the end of the dock. She was greeted only by the sight of sturdy barnacles that clung upside-down to the wood. Besides that, there was nothing. She walked past Theo without a word on her way back. She knew it wasn't his fault. Ridiculously, she felt that someone else was to blame.


	6. Takebacks

Two days had passed at work. Jess had stopped asking why she was so quiet all the time, although they still ate lunch together. She worked as hard as she could, mustering extra smiles, attempting to be attentive to her patrons, focused on feeding the tip jar. It had taken her six months to save up for that dinghy. It wasn't a luxurious boat, it wasn't even a fancy boat, but it was her boat and now it was gone. She would have to start all over again. The harder she worked, the faster the time would pass until she could take to the sea again.

She had to wonder, in the back of her mind, if the storm had not been contrived in some way. It seemed too convenient for her to be deprived of her craft right after being lectured for merely occupying space on the ocean. She pushed away suspicious thoughts whenever they cropped up, knowing that her paranoia was unfounded. 

She didn't go to the marina for those two days. She spent her evenings searching for extra job opportunities online, wondering if she could get a better boat this time. She didn't intend to stay grounded forever. She needed the space out there. Even in a small town, everything was too close together. 

On the third day, Jess invited her to go get drinks after work. She agreed, relieved at the chance to take her mind off the boat. She caught a ride in Jess' car and they drove to the next town over, to some seaside tavern. She was grateful for the company, even if Jess spent most of the time goading her to talk to strangers. After too many refused opportunities to chat up the other bar patrons, Jess took her home, and she slept well for the first time since before the storm.

The next day at work was the same as the others in that it dragged on. A young couple from out of town came in with a small child who kept smudging the windows with his fingers. After they left, she found herself cleaning the glass above their booth, trying to look at the pane in front of her rather than the waves outside. The crowds dwindled, and there were suddenly too many people on wait staff. She volunteered to go home early, and then instantly regretted giving up the opportunity to make a full day's wage. Checking her phone outside the cafe, she saw that she had missed a call from the marina. She dialed the number back, to hear Theo's voice on the other end of the line.

"Oh good, you got my call. You're not gonna believe what I found this morning."

"Did someone try to sell you a boat for cheap? How much?"

"That won't be necessary. Uh...as it turns out, your boat is at the end of the dock, tied up just as if you'd put it there yourself."

The phone slipped from her hand. She picked it up, apologized, hung up, and flew down the hill towards the marina. Dumping her bike on the ground, she hustled across the dock. She could see the boat now. As she got closer, she expected it to disappear again, some trick of the eye that would fade away once she was near enough. Before she knew it, she was standing at the end of the dock, hands dangling at her sides, as she stared down at the boat. It was the boat. It was _her_ boat. She crouched to touch the knot with which it had been tied to the post. The rough strands scratched her fingertips. It was real. It was all there.

The sound of Theo's boots on the planks approached from behind. She didn't look up. She was still kneeling on the edge of the dock, one hand grasping the post, the other running her fingers along the wooden hull of the boat as it floated placidly on its tether.

"Looks like someone's watching out for you," he said.


	7. Oars and Conversation

As Theo walked away, she ran back to her bike to lock it up properly. Then, seeing that the sun would still be up for some time, she changed her mind and pedaled back home. She made herself some sandwiches and wrapped them in butcher paper, pulled a cardigan out of her dresser, and set these things in a neat bundle on her dining room table. She considered texting Jess, but wasn't sure how she'd explain the miraculous return. She had yet to verify for herself what she suspected to be the impossible truth. She sent the text anyways. It simply read "my boat is back?!!"

She idled on the couch, waiting for a response, or for the sun to sink a little lower, whichever came first. It was the text.

"That's great!! How?!"

"I have no idea!"

"It just showed up? Spooky."

She replied with an affirmative, but no response came after that. She waited a little longer, bouncing her leg, checking the phone every few seconds even though she knew there would be no more texts. Then, noting the lighting through the west window shift to a more golden tone, she grabbed her stuff and set out down the hill. She locked up her bike at the marina and set out onto the sea, marveling at where she was, elated to be on the open ocean so much sooner than she had expected. The salty breeze clung to her hair, tossing it back. The motor hummed steadily as she skirted on, towards the sinking sun, towards the rippling orange and red waves. She glanced back occasionally, keeping an eye on the town. Once she had ventured out far enough, she switched off the motor. It occurred to her that she hadn't checked how full the tank was this time. She reached for the oars just to confirm that they were there--which they were. Everything was as she had left it, somehow. _Amazing,_ she thought. _There's just no way..._

The sun continued to sink. She unwrapped a sandwich and took tiny bites, hoping to make it last. The stars were twinkling again. As a girl, she had always imagined the sea as still as glass, and all the stars reflected upon its surface. She had imagined taking a glass boat out into the middle of the glass sea, surrounded by shards of white light above and below, with nothing else in sight. But the sea was a living thing, and it moved and churned of its own accord, and it would never be as still as glass. Every reflection of the sky on the sea was imperfect and fleeting. In that churning mirror, it became something garbled and new. She was taking bites of the sandwich, thinking of this, staring at the sea, when she heard something surface behind her once again.

"Greetings." she turned around, and there he was. She set the sandwich on the bench beside her.

"Did you...bring my boat back?" she asked. He nodded. "Why?"

"Oh, well, I saw it adrift today--very far out, I might add--and I thought maybe you had tried following me around or something like that. But when I didn't see you inside of it, I realized it had been taken by the storm. And I don't like having lost things floating out in the middle of my ocean." 

"Okay, I see." she replied, laughing. "There was no sentiment involved."

"There wasn't. Why are you laughing?" he asked, annoyed.

"Once again, I don't believe you." she replied. He furrowed his brow. "Well, I believe you told the objective truth about what happened. Maybe not about your own thoughts towards it."

"I may have remembered that you offered to help me find something that I had lost," he offered, at last, "and I may have wanted to return the sentiment. As a gesture of peace. And I really _don't_ like finding lost things at sea. Dealing with the garbage is bad enough, but that was a perfectly good boat." There was a pause. She cast her gaze out to sea, unable to maintain eye contact, and he studied her reaction. 

"How do you know so much about the human world?" She asked. "You knew what my camera was immediately. Do you have cameras...wherever you're from?"

"We have devices that work like cameras," he replied. "It was hard to recognize yours, since ours are further advanced...and waterproof." He seemed perfectly serious, but the words felt to her like an attempt at a joke.

"Right, okay. And where is this highly advanced civilization?"

"It's hidden under the sea." he responded. "We didn't build it there, but we have thrived ever since it sank."

"Like Atlantis?"

"Yes, that's what it is called." The more he spoke, the more she felt he must be making it all up, and yet there he was on the back of a creature she had never seen before, wearing a pearlescent suit of armor...there was so much she had accepted at face value already. As the situation grew more bizzare, she wondered if she could sustain these mental gymnastics. 

"How many more of you are there? Do you all just look like regular people? Why can you breathe underwater?"

"I don't feel comfortable giving you more information about my people. There is no peace between us and those who live on land. And I don't even know your name." he reached for the woven reigns of his sea dragon, preparing to leave.

"Wait! My name is (Y/N)" she replied. His grip on the reigns loosened. "I'm just a regular person. I work a quiet day job and I've lived in that town over there for years." She gestured back to the port as she spoke. "You probably already know more about me than I do about you, to be honest." He shifted on the sea dragon's back, still pensive. "And there is peace between you and me, at least right now."

"I wonder if that peace is misplaced." he replied.

"I don't see how I could possibly pose a threat to you," she countered.

"Believing that you can do no wrong is the characteristic of a dangerous person." He sighed, shaking his head. "Have you told anyone about this?"

"Of course not. Nobody would believe me." she snapped. He remained silent. "Okay, I told a friend of mine that I met a rude guy. The day after you poured seawater all over my face. I didn't tell her anything more, and she didn't ask about you." The wind picked up, making her feel even colder.

"Well, thank you for your discretion." he replied, at last. "Anyways, I believe I interrupted your meal." he said, gesturing to the remains of the sandwich in its butcher paper wrapping.

"You didn't interrupt much. It's just a sandwich." she replied, plucking a piece of broken bread off of the sandwich and popping it in her mouth. "Do you have those in...Atlantis?"

"No, we don't."

"Well I have an extra. Do you want one?" 

"No, thank you. I should be going now." he replied, taking the reins again. 

"Your loss," she shrugged. "Have a nice evening, Orm."

"That's _Prince_ Orm." he corrected. "Take care, (Y/N.) Don't lose your boat again." he flicked the reigns and descended below the waves. The faint glow of his sea dragon glided away, and she was left with her extra sandwich in starlit silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your feedback and kudos! This has been my favorite chapter to write so far and I'm glad to share it ^^ 
> 
> (Also, I hope it wasn't too jarring to finally run into a (Y/N); it felt weird putting one in the story so many chapters in, but there hasn't been much of a reason to include it until now.)


	8. Absence

Orm awoke to an empty and spacious room. Frail strands of sunlight filtered their way into his room, having made their way down from the surface. The Atlantean day was also supplemented by lamps installed in the windowsills, which artificially mimicked the natural cycle of day and night. His room was quiet. The palace was perched slightly above the noise of the bustling city, which hushed sounds from the rushing craft outside. Rising from bed, he felt a hollow pang of hunger as he donned his suit of armor for the day. He nearly wished he had taken a bite of the dry-looking food he'd been offered last night.

Striding through the vaulted halls, he pictured what her reaction might be to the smooth, pale architecture which had surrounded him for his twenty-two years of life. The stone splendor of his palace felt so far-removed from the hunched wooden shanties he had beheld in her town, and in so many of the other coastal towns he had viewed from afar. Warm yellow lights and rough, deteriorating docks had become a shabby trademark of the world above. The charm of these things was lost on Orm. By his evaluation, the surface had proved to be dreadfully underwhelming, despite the threat it imposed upon the sea. And yet, he had patrolled it on occasion, whenever he could manage slipping away from the city. It was an unfortunate habit, born of mistrust towards the surface, and sparked by mistrust towards those in his own personal acquaintance. Finding the opportunity to slip away had been more difficult lately, but it hadn't dissuaded him from these excursions.

At any rate, Orm would be occupied today. Orvax had demanded his presence for various tasks, filling his schedule until it was time to go to bed again, leaving him no room to himself. It had been this way for as far back as Orm wanted to remember. Before he was fit to become king, he knew he had to submit himself to the wishes of the exacting and calculated man who had raised him. One day he would occupy the same throne. It was the only constant, the only thing he had learned to expect, and the inevitable end to all means. Until then, he would learn through routine and discipline how to maintain it.


	9. Ships Passing

It had been a few days since the last night meeting, but her sleep schedule hadn't recovered. This morning, she woke to a handful of missed calls and texts from Jess. It was 9:30 am; an hour into her shift already. Apparently her alarms hadn't been set. She threw on some clothes and raced to the cafe, numb to the reprimands of her boss. She launched headfirst into work that day, skipping lunch to make up for the lost hour. Despite the extra sleep that morning, she was exhausted. At the end of her shift, she dumped a bowl of house-made kettle chips into a paper bag and ate them on the back porch of the cafe, staring at the horizon. Some seabirds came and pestered her to get to the food. She tossed a small handful onto the ground and watched the gulls peck mercilessly at the chips until they were tiny, oily crumbs embedded in the asphalt.

After dinner she eased onto the bike, looking up the hill towards her little house. The marina was downhill...that was an easier trip to make, but she knew that if she went sailing this evening, she would probably fall asleep in the boat again. The sea was choppy today, and it wouldn't be the wisest choice to risk drifting out, so she pedaled up the hill anyways and went to bed early.

...

Orm, too, was exhausted. Orvax had kept him busy the past several days without any sign of reprieve. Why, then, had he made the trip out to the bay that night? He wasn't surprised to see that she hadn't shown up. There had been several nights where he'd arrived to an empty sea. Her boat was still tethered there by the distant dock, which he could barely make out. Orm watched the town lights switching on and off for a little while, wondering who they each belonged to. He watched cars darting along the coastal road, night visitors in a town where they would never linger. 

It was getting late. He left as silently as he had come, ignoring the tension gathering in his mind as he dove towards his home. The time away from Atlantis, however brief, had been a welcome reprieve. He was beginning to understand why she loved lingering alone at the surface like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since an update! I was updating about twice a week before but I think I'm gonna switch to once a week, on Saturday mornings (USA/MT)
> 
> Thank you to all returning readers! I appreciate you so much


	10. Company

He had surfaced a little further from the boat this time. Over the past two days it had occurred to him that maybe he was startling (Y/N) by appearing so suddenly and so closely all the time. And so he had surfaced further out tonight in hopes of seeing her boat, in hopes of her noticing him at an unimposing distance before he approached. Only the first part of that hope was fulfilled.

There she was, about two meters away, hunched over and facing the shore. Her back, silhouetted against the village lights, trembled in syncopation. The sound of short sobs bounced off the water and drifted in all directions. Realization hit him, bringing unpleasant memories of his own sorrow and the nights he had also pent in that same defeated pose. The loss of his mother, and even his parents' frequent fights before that, had left many such nights in their wake. Orm turned to leave her in peace, but hesitated. _What peace could she possible have, with or without my presence?_ he thought. After another moment's hesitation, ripe with the gilt of leaving her without someone to talk to... _no_. He knew this routine too well. He had always wished for an ally in his own grief. There was a chance she might feel the same.

As he approached, he took care to splash around a little bit, hoping that she might notice without being startled. She looked up, stifling a sob, and wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

"I had hoped you'd stay home tonight." she said, voice raw. He was unsure of the best way to respond—the only person he had ever comforted was technically Atlanna. Sometimes, after late-night arguments with Orvax, she would peer into his room to see if he was still awake. If so, she would sit on the bed and pull him into a hug, holding him for a few minutes, and then bidding him goodnight with a kiss on the forehead. It had been so long. And even then, he hadn’t really _done_ anything. She spoke again, wrenching him from the memory.

“Since you’re here…” she sighed, wiping an eye with the sleeve again. “would you sit with me?”

“In your boat?” he asked, glancing at the empty bench across from her. She nodded. “Alright.” Laying the reigns across his sea dragon’s back, he slowly rose to his feet atop the saddle. The animal was well-trained, and he knew it wouldn’t wander very far in his absence. Carefully, he lifted one foot to step into the boat, then faltered and swayed, pitching backwards—he was heavier above water than he had anticipated. Before he could tip too far backwards, she rose and caught one of his outstretched hands, steadying him. Carefully, and still clutching her hand, he righted himself and stepped into the boat. She stifled a laugh, some color returning to her face.

As she loosened her grip on his arm and the two settled into a seated position, Orm noticed one stray tear rolling down her cheek. A tiny dot of moonlight shone and shifted on the tear’s glassy surface as it traced her face. He had never seen anything like it. It was beautiful. Noticing his gaze, she wiped the tear away, puzzled at his interest. 

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to stare.” he said, realizing that his behavior must have made her uncomfortable. “The tears don’t stick to us underwater. I had never really thought about them before, to be honest…it was just odd seeing one for the first time.” She nodded, seeming more at ease.

“I’m sorry you’ve had the displeasure of crying, Prince.” It seemed an odd sentiment to offer, as though she was offering comfort although she was the one who needed it. He welcomed it regardless.

“I extend the same sentiment to you,” he returned, as warmly as he could manage. He was still taken aback by her straightforward remark. “May I ask why you were crying?”

It was strange, but she laughed in response to this question. He had hoped he wouldn’t upset her more by asking, and it was getting hard to tell if that was the case. After a moment, she calmed down and apologized.

“Yes, you may ask,” she began. “And my response probably made me sound like a lunatic.” She paused to see if he would nod in response, but he remained motionless and attentive, his eyes searching hers. After a breath’s pause, she continued. “See, I don’t actually _know_ why I’m crying. I mean, I think I know the reason, it just doesn’t make any sense. There’s no…obvious answer. Do you know what I mean?” He shook his head slightly.

“No, but if you explain a little further, maybe we can figure it out.”


	11. Schism

She sighed again. Unlike the first sigh, which had been an outlet of despair, this sigh felt as though she were getting ready to gather herself up and attempt some difficult task. Then, after a deep breath, she spoke again.

“Okay. Well, I got some news from my mom today.” Orm winced, a barely perceptible reflex, and she continued unawares. “She lives across the country. Actually, she still lives in the house where I grew up, which is really far from here, so I don’t see her often. Anyways, I guess I don’t hear from her very often either. Because she’s coming to visit me soon, but she’s….she’s bringing along this man she wants to marry. She and my dad separated when I was a kid, sorry, I should have mentioned.” Orm nodded. _Mine too_ he thought, unwilling to elaborate to himself any further.

“So I’ve never even heard of this guy before. I didn’t know she was…seeing people again. I thought she had given up on all that. Um, a lot of bad stuff happened with my father.” There was a long pause. Orm lowered his eyes to study his own clasped hands. He didn’t want to pressure her into elaborating on that. After a pause, she continued, and he met her gaze again.

“It’s not like I don’t want her to be happy,” she faltered. “That’s not…I mean, I just don’t know what to expect? I don’t know anything about him, and I—” she broke off, resting her head in one hand, elbow perched on her knee.

“Maybe you feel like you don’t know her, either.” He offered, unsure of what else to say. She nodded, sitting up straight again and taking another deep breath.

“I’m sure that’s part of it,” she said. “There was absolutely no rational reason for me to _lose it_ like this, though.”

“It sounds…more complicated than that. Maybe you just have too much to process right now.” he responded after some thought. She broke his gaze to look back at the coastline behind him for a moment. “But, maybe seeing her will be good for both of you. I would encourage you to make the most of your time with here.” he settled forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She looked back into his eyes again, which were glowing a brilliant azure, even in the darkness.

“You’re probably onto something here,” she conceded. He nodded.

“You’ve made it clear that I can’t tell you what to do,” he said with a wry smile, “but I suggest you try to take it day by day.” She returned the smile.

“Thanks, I’ll consider it,” she said. “Has anything like this ever happened to you? It’s hard to imagine a Prince of the Sea having anything other than a storybook childhood, I’ll admit.” The smile faded from his eyes as he thought about his own mother once again. Her expression shifted into concern as she watched his countenance fall.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer that,” she felt her hand automatically moving towards his knee, to place it there in reassurance, but she stopped this impulse.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, extending his own hand to give her still-extended fingers a reassuring squeeze, then letting go. She thrilled at the unexpected contact, taking a moment to regain her focus as he spoke. “I lost my mother when I was still a child,” he began. “Before I was born, she was betrothed to my father, but she couldn’t stand the thought of such a marriage. So she fled to the surface, and lived somewhere up there for a few years. She returned to the sea after realizing that she couldn’t hide forever. She and my father fought, often. And one day, my father found out that when she lived on the surface, she betrayed him and bore a half-breed son to a surface-dweller.” Orm’s voice trembled, slightly, with the last few words. He was losing the smooth control he usually exercised over his speech.

She felt pulled to take his hand again, but as she reached towards it, he withdrew from her. “She was sentenced to death for betraying us to the surface,” he finished. “My father has no wish to remarry.” As the story continued, his expression had grown cold and stern. She searched his eyes for any trace of the warmth that had been there previously.

“Orm, I’m so sorry.” She began. “I can’t imagine—”

“No, you can’t.” he snapped, cutting her off. “Her selfishness cost me my mother, and what’s more, she betrayed the Kingdom,” he raised his voice a little more. “And now here _I_ am with some _surfacer_.” he spluttered.

“Orm, wait. You’ve helped me, but you haven’t committed _treason_ just by breathing the same air as me. Let me help you. We can talk it out,” she pleaded, but he rose from his seat and dove into the sea without another word.

Underwater, he whistled sharply for the sea dragon. On its back, speeding towards Atlantis, he couldn’t ignore the sensation of saltwater pouring from his eyes.


	12. Frigid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early update this week bc I don't think I'll be able to be online tomorrow morning lol. Big thanks to late-night readers because whenever I get a kudos notification it's at like 4am my time lol, keep binging fics!

Obviously, she could see now, that it had been a bad idea to open up to a complete stranger. His prejudice against humans had come across in subtle ways before, but she had dismissed it as some sort of classism thing—any real prince was bound to have grown up in an insular, self-righteous echo chamber, right? At least, that had been her reasoning. But then his return of the boat, which he had brought back despite knowing it meant she would continue infringing on his space…that had erased her prior reservations. She condemned herself for how stupid she had been to think that he was somehow her friend after just one gesture.

The roar of the motor as she sped back to shore was making it hard to think. The complete unpredictability of the situation she had just witnessed was also making it hard to think. She was torn between completely forgetting Orm and holding onto the sliver of compassion she had for him. Losing a mother at a young age would surely _account_ for his outburst, but it didn’t excuse it. Despite the knowledge that she had been the one to dredge up this trauma with her own questions, she felt that he might have remained more controlled, listened to reason, if only for a moment. She even gave him a chance not to respond, and yet he did it anyways. _Why did he do that?_ He had displayed a consistent sense of decorum in all prior interactions, even when his manners were strained. With what had happened just now, with his sudden and total change in demeanor—that had frightened her a little. 

It didn’t seem wise to keep company with a man who lacked control his negative emotions. Most likely, his own closed-mindedness would keep him from associating with her further, anyways—so maybe she didn’t have to worry about making that decision. 

There was hardly a friendship to mourn, but she still felt hollow. Nevermind that this whole nasty affair hadn’t alleviated her other problems.

\--

Orm was unable to go to sleep that night. The unpleasant memory of his mother, the old wound ripped open, and the knowledge that he was commiserating with the very people who had seduced and doomed his mother. These surface-dwellers, who had torn his family apart, and who were an active threat to his people…he had gone so far as to help one of them, twice. He shuddered at the thought of Orvax finding out about all of this. With a chill, Orm considered the possibility that Orvax already knew about his midnight departures. Certainly it would have been impossible for him to leave the palace so many times without attracting any attention whatsoever.

He kept thinking about the boat adrift. He kept thinking about the harsh sun on the hull, the paint that was scraping off in some areas, the old motor with rust on its propeller. He kept thinking about how it had looked so pathetic adrift, and how he had known in an instant whose it was and that she was missing it terribly. His subconscious had done so well at informing him, he knew he was already too involved with the surface girl. 

A day ago, he might have been willing to admit that the faint beginnings of peace and understanding were appealing. She had seemed reasonable enough, and despite losing her boat to the sea, she didn’t appear to be as careless as the rest of her kind. And she had offered to help him find the thing he was looking for, without even knowing anything about it. He turned over in bed again, unable to escape these thoughts. At the core, he felt shame—whether it was for revealing his emotions with no restraint, for associating with a surfacer, or for making her night even worse, he could not tell. Most likely, it was guilt over all three.

And then he thought about the situation with her mother. She was taking everything for granted. What he wouldn’t give to have his own mother back, in any capacity…but despite this, he saw the strange connection in their situations. Her mother was remarrying for love, and she found it confusing, challenging even. His mother had remarried for duty, but his qualms, too, lay with her first marriage: the one based on “love.” If one could even call it that. Given how immediately he had ventured to make peace with the surface girl, he wondered if there wasn’t some sort of deceit or enchantment about them beyond the power of love. That was the only rational possibility, wasn’t it?

He didn’t want to see her again. She had asked too many questions. Actually, she had always asked too many questions. Before, he hadn’t had a problem denying her answers. So what had changed?


	13. Regroup

She avoided the sea for the next several days. Her thoughts wandered to him occasionally, in the middle of work, in the middle of talking to Jess, in the middle of doing nothing. She knew she couldn’t stay away forever. Orm or not, the ocean was still her escape. And in a way she felt guilty—perhaps he had shown up one of the past few nights to apologize, to be greeted by nothing but an empty sea? 

Truthfully, she had no confidence in her ability to predict whether or not he would do something like that. In retrospect, the whole event seemed melodramatic. Orm seemed like the kind of person who could not handle being seen after participating a melodrama. He took himself too seriously; the humiliation might be crippling. She could empathize with that; she wondered if she was only projecting herself onto him.

She had attempted to explain this to Jess, without giving away who he really was. She said she had gone a few towns over after getting the news about her mother, she had wound up at a bar crying, and an acquaintance had found her. She could tell that Jess found this hard to believe, given that (Y/N) stayed close to home most of the time, but Jess humored her nonetheless. Jess thought she should just call the guy and ask him, straightforwardly, if there was anything to salvage about their tentative friendship. This would have been a great idea if Orm had a cellphone.

She had no option but to drift out there every night until he showed up or she gave up.

Orm had spent his days sticking closely to routine, sans the nighttime escapades. He hadn’t been to the coast either, and he wondered if she was there waiting for some sort of explanation, or maybe waiting to chew him out for walking out on the argument. He was reluctant to acknowledge that he could have waited a moment longer. Strangely, his show of emotion had not bothered him. It had felt oddly freeing, and he didn’t want to apologize for it. However, there was still something bothering him about the exchange, and he felt it wasn’t over. After all, she had tried to talk him out of leaving. Clearly there was still an attachment on her end—unless it was an empty ploy.

It was no good to leave things unfinished, so he finally gave in. As he approached the shore, he could see the faint and slanted shadow cast by her boat in the moonlight, as usual.

When he surfaced, she noticed right away. There was an icy pause, then she finally spoke.

“It’s your brother, isn’t it?” It was not what she had wanted to lead with at all, but it was the other thing she had been thinking about. “The thing you’re looking for up here?” There was another long pause. She could see his grip on the reins tighten.

“I hate him.” Orm replied, at last. 

“Why are you looking for him?”

“I want him to know. I want him to understand that he’s the reason my mother was executed.” he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, with barely a hint of the emotion he had displayed last time.

“Is that all?”

“I suppose.” 

“Can we still be…friends?” He was silent again. “I know I asked a personal question. Maybe it was too personal. But you answered it, didn’t you? Is it my fault you’re upset?”

“You’re a surface-dweller. So, to some extent, yes.”

“I’ve never heard of your brother or his father. I wouldn’t even know them if I passed them on the street. I was not involved in your family’s past, in any capacity. Don’t make me your scapegoat.”

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”

“Then why did you come? Just tell me whether we can salvage whatever was going on before that fell apart. I liked talking to you. I appreciated your help, your presence,” she paused, wishing he would look her in the eye. He had averted her gaze since arrival. “It was nice talking to you, even if you were a little rude at first. If you shouldn’t be talking to me, then I don’t understand why you bothered to come back.”

“I felt like we had unfinished business, which seems obvious given the nature of your questions.” He responded coolly. “I don’t want to hate you.” He admitted. 

“I _don’t_ hate you.” she replied.

“Thanks.” He bit his lip, thinking some more, studying the thin strip of waves between his sea dragon and her boat. “I apologize for leaving abruptly. I should have been willing to discuss it further.”

“Apology accepted. Just don’t do it again,” she warned, “or I’ll find a new place to take my boat.”

“I found it once, I can find it again.” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “I…thank you for listening to me that night. I know I didn’t make it easy. But it was good to…emote.”

“I imagine you haven’t had much of an outlet to process all that, given the way you responded. Dealing with it alone…it seems like that would be just as hard as losing her in the first place.”

“You think so?” There was no sarcasm in his voice. The question was genuine.

“Yes, I do.” she replied. “If we really are friends again, you can talk to me about it. I’m not sure I can be much help, but I’m good at listening.”

“I appreciate the offer.” he said, a faint smile lingering on his face for just a moment. He was still suspicious that the only person who had ever offered to listen to him in this way was a surfacer, but at the same time…someone had finally offered to listen to him. She extended a hand towards him.

“Do you have handshakes in Atlantis?” she asked, hand still outstretched over the open water. His blank expression and lack of motion was a sufficient answer. “It’s a sign of trust and agreement. Just take my hand, I’ll shake for both of us.”

He extended his own hand to take hers, and she held it firmly, giving her arm a few short bounces, then letting go.

“That was strange,” he said. “although not unpleasant.”

“Good.” she replied. She straightened herself in the boat. She was feeling the length of the day in her back and shoulders. She was tired. Orm, seeming to perceive this, spoke again.

“It’s late,” he began. “I would like to keep talking, but I have a long day tomorrow.”

“Same here,” she said. Then, with a sigh, “I might not be here tomorrow night. I have to prepare for the visitors…”

“I understand. Take care of yourself.” He replied. His voice was relaxed now. She smiled and nodded. 

“Same to you,” she said. “Goodnight, Orm.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N)”


	14. Regroup, Pt. 2

The next week, for both of them, was spent catching small breaths in-between attempting to meet the needs of overbearing parents. Orm was a bit more accustomed to this than (Y/N), but it didn’t ease his exhaustion by very much. In addition to his regular duties, another envoy from Xebel arrived to maintain relations between kingdoms. Princess Mera had arrived along with them, and he recalled their childhood spent as friends. All of the warmth had gone away after Atlanna died. He was unwilling to dwell on the subject, and regarded her with stiff courtesy.

While processing the strange circumstances of her reconciliation with the brooding prince, (Y/N) searched for a way to reconcile herself to her mother’s new path in life. She had time to think on the drive to the nearest airport, where she would be picking them up, although she was more preoccupied with driving Jess’s borrowed car as carefully as possible. An accident was not something she could add to the stress equation at this time.

The more she considered it, the more strangely conditional his presence felt. She had never been particularly careful with her words around him, at times teasing him probably more than he was used to. Her inability to guess at his upbringing was heightened by the fact that not only did he appear to be actual royalty, but he was from a completely unknown culture, and had clearly suffered some trauma beyond the scope of what she could fathom. More than once, the doubt had crossed her mind that he may be delusional or a deliberate trickster. She had no concrete way to dispel this doubt, but her instincts told her that he was genuine. She had been wrong before, but she wanted to believe in the strangeness of the situation this time.

Coping with her mother’s new choice had been less challenging than she thought. The unwanted houseguest her mother had toted along treated (Y/N) with more dignity and autonomy than previously expected. He seemed aware of her misgivings before he had arrived, but didn’t attempt to overcompensate for them. She was still unsure whether she could embrace his anticipated role in her life, but she could see that her mother was happy at the very least. There was still a fighting sense of indignity when she pictured him as a part of her family, something she could not reconcile by conscious effort, which she supposed would go away in time.

In the afternoons she often caught her visitors gazing out the window at the construction site. The skeletal hotel was beginning to look less spindly. It was getting harder to view the sea beyond the sharp geometric frame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a short chapter--I'm sorry. But very, very good things are coming!


	15. "It Will"

It felt strange when she rowed out of the bay the night her mother and her mother’s suitor left town. She had borrowed Jess’s car once again to take them home, and was glad to be using a more intuitive mode of transport after the stressful drive. She had actually enjoyed driving during the college, time spent with the family’s old car, but it had broken down after she graduated and she knew she was moving to a place where she wouldn’t need more than a bike. The desire for a boat had come shortly after she arrived in town, and she had taken lessons from Theo for a few months in order to become sea-worthy.

At any rate, she hadn’t been on the water at night for a week. She had taken her houseguests out on the boat one day, and couldn’t help wondering the whole time if Orm might be around somewhere. If he had known about her presence there, he hadn’t done anything about it. Not that he would have, or that she would have wanted to explain his presence to outsiders.

Lost in thought, she had rowed out further than usual. She paused for a moment, arms sore. At one point she had forgotten to switch on the motor, and just kept rowing the whole way—which she was not used to, which she was feeling in her biceps at the moment. She rubbed her arms, shaking them out, to hear a splash off at the side of the boat. She whipped around, a greeting already out of her mouth. Nothing was there. Another splash greeted her from the opposite side of the boat, and she turned towards it.

“Evening,” came his even tone, with a hint of pleasance to it this time.

“Did you…trick me on purpose?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “And you fell for it.”

“I guess I did,” she laughed in return. _How did he find my boat so quickly?_ There was a pause in conversation. He had broken the usual script: she was unsure how to proceed. There was no hint of the usual expectance in his ever-somber eyes. He seemed placid tonight.

“I hope that wasn’t too out-of-line,” he said, the sentiment sounding more like a suggestion than an apology. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I haven’t been here for a week,” she replied. “It’s been…really busy. But my visitors have left now.” She avoided specifically mentioning her mother. _Better safe than sorry…_

“I’m in the same predicament,” he responded. “We had company as well, this week. They are still staying with us, though.”

“Are there other people under the sea? Besides you, and the rest of Atlantis?”

“Yes, there are a few other kingdoms. We have a tentative alliance with one of them, which is how I got this dragon,” he patted the back of his sea dragon absentmindedly, and it twitched in the same way a horse might. A wet, blue-scaled horse that’s mostly submerged in the ocean. “A party from their embassy came with a court member who used to stay with us. Just a formal visit. I won’t bore you with the politics.”

“I won’t bore you with my family politics either. Everything is resolved now, at least.” She was somewhat crestfallen that he hadn’t gone into further detail. Was he assuming she couldn’t follow the conversation, or was he just being secretive again?

“That’s good to hear. You were worked up for nothing, then.” his words would have sounded dismissive if he hadn’t attempted a reassuring smile at the end of the sentence.

“I suppose I was. It felt real at the time, though. And sometimes it’s okay to let go.” It had been cathartic to express her emotions before anything had actually happened. Despite the fact that the visit with her mother had gone better than expected, she still felt justified in crying that night. “I was more upset about the idea of it than the reality of it, anyways.”

He nodded slowly. “I see what you mean. I don’t believe in worrying about things beforehand, but that’s easier said than done.”

“Maybe being a prince of the ocean has afforded you a little more security than being a pauper on land has afforded me,” she ventured. “You seem very sure of yourself, and that’s a good thing to be, but I’m not there yet.”

“I can’t afford not to be. There’s a lot of pressure attached to being the only heir.”

“You can leverage that position to your advantage, though.”

“I can’t leverage anything to my advantage until I am king. That’s just the nature of Atlantis right now.” His voice sounded tired and hollow.

“I guess I have no idea what that’s really like.” She responded. “I hope it gets better for you.” He nodded.

“It will.” The sudden determination in his voice felt reassuring. “I’ll do what it takes to make things better. Not just for me, but for the rest of Atlantis.”

“I believe you.” She responded, thinking for a moment. She rested her elbows on her knees, leaning towards him. “When I first moved to this town, I didn’t know anybody, and I wasn’t sure whether I’d need to pick up extra jobs, and there were just a lot of unknowns. It was hard enough being responsible for just myself, but I wanted to take root here and I wanted to make a space for myself—even if it was just a small one. I think I’ve done that since I showed up, and being determined to do it helped…but I don’t know if I could work to ensure the wellbeing of an entire city.” She paused again. “I guess more than just a city. You mentioned at least one other kingdom that seems to depend on Atlantis.”

He nodded solemnly. “It’s more than even that. I’d like to change things for the entire ocean.” He sat with his arms half-crossed, one hand grasping the opposite forearm, the other hand still loosely wrapped around leather reins that lay across his lap. She watched him intently, to see if he would elaborate any further. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything else, although I don’t mind hearing more.” He bit his lip in response. “It’s sort of an ambitious undertaking, is all. To change the ocean, you’d probably have to change the whole world, but we don’t even know about you guys up here.” She continued, acting on compulsion to fill the gap in conversation.

“Making contact with the surface would be the easier part of that equation,” he interrupted. “There are many kingdoms under the sea, which I would have to unify for the first time in centuries.”

“But you said there were alliances between kingdoms.”

“My kingdom, Atlantis, and one other kingdom are on friendly terms. That doesn’t guarantee our alliance for the indefinite future, and the other kingdoms besides us only have loyalty to themselves. I would have to convince them that I can act for the greater good if I were to lead them someday.”

“That sounds tricky.” she responded. “I guess the kingdom that’s friendly with you would be the first to work on.”

“That’s what I was thinking too. We have already discussed strategic marriages. Their king has a daughter my age.” Her breath halted for a moment, unintentionally. A vague pain fluttered through her stomach. “But for the others, I’m afraid a show of force would be necessary,” he continued, unaware of her faltering focus.

_That was a stupid reaction,_ she thought. _Of course it’s like that._ Out loud, when there was a break in conversation she simply said “It seems like you’ve thought about this a lot. I’m sorry if it was unwelcome of me to make any suggestions.”

“Not at all. To hear others voice a thought I’ve already had just further demonstrates that it could be a good approach.” He smiled, more genuinely now than he had before. His teeth were white, even against the dark.

“That’s good,” she said, with a relieved laugh. “I’m always making suggestions that people have already thought of. I just worry that it gets annoying.”

“You haven’t annoyed me yet.” He responded. She fought the urge to scoff—he had seemed pretty annoyed during their falling out. Maybe he had already forgotten, although she had her doubts. But he was still smiling, and he looked nice that way.

“Good. It’s good to see you smile,” she blurted thoughtlessly. He blinked once, quickly, the smile fading from his face for a moment—but then it returned.

“I suppose I’m usually rather sullen,” he conceded, even giving a gracious laugh. The Orm before her now was different than his usual self. He seemed lighter. “It’s just good to be listened to. You’re a good listener.”

“Thank you. I try,” she said.

“(Y/N), you must promise me you’re not some sort of spy,” he continued. “maybe I’ll talk to you more often about these things. Nobody else seems to listen.”

“Oh, I can’t make any big promises like that,” she teased. He laughed at her joke, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Sometimes it seemed like her jokes were lost on him, and this would have been a bad time to be taken seriously.

“I’m starting to understand your surface humor.” He responded. “If you were a spy, I think I would have known by now anyways.”

“I’m sure. Have you ever met a spy before?” she asked, stifling a yawn. A glance at her watch told her it was well past midnight. She had a breakfast shift in the morning.

“I have, many times. And plenty of traitors.” He glanced at the watch on her wrist. “What does that do?” he asked, nodding his head slightly towards it.

“It’s a watch—tells the time. And right now it’s telling me I should have gone to bed a while ago.” She held it up so he could see the clock face, watching a pale dot of moonlight reflect onto his cheek.

“Tell me more about that the next time we meet, and I’ll tell you more about spies.” he announced. “I should go home, too.”

“I hope you don’t have too long of a journey to get back,” she replied, having never thought about the distance from here to Atlantis before.

“That would be classified,” he said, descending into the waves with a smirk. The familiar pulse of water jolted the boat, and she was alone on the sea again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I'm so hyped to share next week's chapter, it's unreal. Hope you all stick around to see what happens next!!)


	16. She Lit a Fire

It was windy out tonight. It was so windy that she had almost turned back to the bay before she could reach the usual spot, but she decided to press on. She alternated between regret for not having tied her hair up, and regret for not having brought some sort of windbreaker. It wasn’t cold yet, but the air was sharp with promise that the chill would set in eventually. The annoyance of having strands of hair constantly slap her face only intensified her anxiety.

She wondered if hearing about spies would be worth it, assuming he showed up. She knew that the desire to hear about spies was not the only justification for her actions. She continued to paddle, refusing to start the motor for fear she’d start to feel cold if she stopped moving.

 _This is stupid,_ she thought. _I bet he won’t even show up._ The idea sent a wave of relief through her, followed by disappointment at the thought. _If he doesn’t show up in five minutes, I’m going home and making a hot cup of tea._ As she continued to row, a splash greeted her from far away.

“Good evening!” he hailed her at a distance, but as she turned to look he was getting closer. She stopped paddling, and he arrived at the boat. “It’s cold up here,” he said.

“It is. I was thinking about going home for a hot drink, to be honest.” She replied.

“You’re wearing your hair down,” he observed, completely missing what she had just said. “I’ve never seen it that way before.” After a pause, he continued. “It looks nice.”

“Thank you. It’s not keeping me warm, though.” She attempted a smile.

“Me neither,” he admitted. “Should we say goodnight, then, and wait for better weather?”

“Wait,” she had blurted it out with no idea of a follow-up, but an idea came to her. “Can you go on land?” she asked. He seemed taken aback.

“Yes, technically. I think so. I’ve never done it before.”

“Have you ever seen a fire?”

“Probably not.” He replied.

“Would you like to sit on the beach with me? I can start a campfire. It’ll warm us up." She watched his brows furrow as he thought for a moment.

“Won’t someone see me?” he asked. “I don’t exactly blend in with the surfacers.” He gestured to his glinting armor.

“There’s nobody outside at this hour.” She replied. “We can go around the cape over there, so nobody will see us from the town. The only houses overlooking that part of the beach are my house and my very elderly neighbors. They’re absolutely asleep right now.” He seemed to still be contemplating, gazing at the shoreline.

“I’ll follow your boat there, and decide when I see it.” He conceded. She nodded, revving up the motor and making a wide turn around his sea dragon. He submerged again and the creature glided alongside her, keeping pace effortlessly. She noted that her boat was between his dragon and the full moon, realizing they were using her shadow to navigate. Once they had made it around the small sea cliff, she paddled into a mostly-secluded shore. The sand here was gritty and coarse, so she didn’t make it a habit to walk this beach, and it was only accessible from the sea anyways. It wasn’t the ideal location for a first-time land experience, but it would have to do.

Orm poked out of the water again and surveyed the land. Looking up the steep, rocky slope, he could see the tops of two houses, but there was no sign of life from either. The shore below was empty. It seemed safe. He nodded at her. She began rolling up her pants, mentally preparing to walk in the cold water for a bit.

She had already jumped out of the partially-beached rowboat in the shallows, holding a small lighter and a metal tin full of kindling. Orm had dismounted his sea dragon a bit further out and was swimming towards land. As the water became shallower, he became less sure of how to conduct himself. She stopped, still shin-deep in the cold water, to observe how he moved on land.

He had reached serious shallows now, and she could tell that he had been forced to set his feet on the land beneath him. He proceeded with no problem until the waterline was up to his mid-torso, which is when he started to take slower steps.

“The bad thing about being on land is that you can really feel your weight.” She offered, hoping to encourage him. “You’ll adjust in no time. Just remember getting into my boat that one night.”

“I needed your help then,” he begrudgingly admitted, plodding through the water as if it were syrup.

“Do you need it now?” she offered, in as placid a tone as she could manage.

“No!” he said, stumbling a bit. She took a tentative step towards him anyways, shoving the lighter and tin into her pockets. He stopped for a moment, wavering, then regaining balance. As soon as he started moving again, he listed to the side, bringing progress to a halt once again.

“How about now?” she asked, crossing her arms in amusement.

“…yes.” He sighed. She hiked up her pants further and waded over to him, now knee-deep in water.

“Just put your arm around my shoulder. It’ll help you balance.” She offered, standing beside him. He draped his arm over her, the cold armor sending a chill and a shudder down her arms.

“Sorry about that,” he sounded genuinely apologetic.

“It’s okay. We’ll be warm in a moment.”

The two waded slowly to the beach. Past a certain point, another bluff on the far end of the cove protected them from the wind. In the calm air and the closeness, they felt a bit warmer. Orm leaned on her a little more as less of him was submerged, until they made it all the way out of the water.

“I’ll try walking now,” he stated, with no real conviction in his voice. His weight lifted from her, and he was standing on his own.

“You’re already doing well.”

“I don’t understand why this is harder than getting in your boat.”

“I think it’s the principle behind walking on land. Maybe it’s a mind game.”

“You may be right.” He returned, going quiet as he experimented with taking steps. She watched for a moment, just to see that he wasn’t going to tip over. He took three steps and then stood triumphantly with his hands on his hips, and she was satisfied with his level of safety. While he got himself straightened out, she gathered some dry branches from the driest parts of the beach and made a little hollow in the sand for a fire.

“Come over here and see this!” she spoke loudly, careful not to shout and wake anyone up. The sound in the cove echoed a bit and was no doubt being carried up over the cliff, something she had forgotten about until now. The hushed slap of the waves against the sand sounded the same down here as it did from her bedroom window, which had reminded her of the acoustics.

Orm strode over, wavering slightly. Despite his uncertainties, he had adjusted to walking on land rather quickly. She beckoned for him to sit beside her, which posed its own difficulties, but he made it onto the sand without capsizing.

Wordlessly, she set the dried branches in a radial pattern, stuffing some of the dried moss she kept for kindling underneath them.

“I don’t have any big logs or anything,” she said. “It’s stupid, my house is right there, and I have some proper firewood inside, but I can’t climb the cliff.” she gestured upwards for a moment, then returned to the little pile of wood at hand. “This will still keep us warm, just not for very long.”

“How?” He leaned further towards the pile of wood, furrowing his brow again as he peered at it.

“I haven’t lit it yet,” she responded, biting back the urge to laugh at the question. It was a good question, after all. “Watch:”

She produced the tiny lighter and flicked the ignition. A tiny flame cast its faint glow on the two huddled figures, and she cupped one hand around it to keep any wind out. She lowered the glowing thing to the kindling, and immediately the dry moss took the flame. She withdrew her hand and released the lighter button. In her periphery, she saw the flame withdraw with a click, but she was focused on studying Orm’s reaction.

As the moss was consumed, glowing red, feeding the tiny flame, he leaned even closer to watch it. Before a branch could light, she placed a hand on his shoulder to draw him a bit further back, worrying he might get too close otherwise. He leaned back subconsciously, barely noticing her touch.

The flame licked up onto the branches and the air began to smell of campfire smoke, and she watched the light grow stronger and flicker in his sea-green eyes. It cast warmth and light onto his pale face, shining in strands of his golden hair and glinting across his gilded coronet.

“It’s beautiful,” he said in a rich, muted voice, eyes never leaving the flame. She nodded, still watching the reddish glow dance on his features. She had never seen him in full light before, but had always known he was handsome. His eyes were more crystalline than she had imagined, though.

“Is it warming you up at all?” she asked. He nodded. The warmth from this fire was somewhat feeble, but it was enough to take the edge off the chill. Wordlessly, he removed his gauntlets and let his hands hover near the fire.

“Don’t touch it,” she said. “It’ll burn you.”

“Is that how everything is up here?” he asked, eyes unfocused. He seemed to be somewhere else for that moment.

“Not all things.” she replied. “Just be careful around this one.” He did not answer her. Whether it was because he hadn’t heard her to begin with, or because he had no answer, she could not tell. After a moment, she saw the glimmer in his eye again, and knew he was present.

 

\--  
(To Be Continued—Next week!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot of fun to write!! I know the title is kind of overly-literal but I got the name from my favorite Lord Huron song, which is also called "She Lit a Fire."
> 
> Here's a link to the official music video if anyone is interested: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VUxh-jw-C-w


	17. The Span of a Second

“So, you said you’d tell me about the spies,” she half-whispered, resting her arms across her knees, and her head on her arms, tilted towards him. She watched him glance towards her, his gaze resting on her watch.

“You said you’d tell me about the watch,” he murmured back. She wordlessly unlatched it and handed it to him.

“If you press it to your ear, you’ll hear the seconds ticking by.” She said. He did as she suggested, and smiled slightly.

“That’s the worst sound in the world.” He said, after a moment. She nodded.

“I know what you mean.”

Without saying anything, he attempted to wrap the watch around his own wrist. It was too small. Then, turning it over in his hands, he spoke again.

“How exactly does it work?”

“I don’t actually know,” she responded. “Well, I don’t know specifics. It’s powered by a small battery—it doesn’t take much energy for it to run.” She proceeded slowly, searching his face for any trace of confusion. He seemed to understand. “There are little cogs inside that need to stay in alignment for the hands—those are the little spindly needles—to move around at the right speed. The numbers are for the hours.”

“Fascinating.” He replied. “This is something like how we keep time, although it’s not quite as…precise as this.” He paused for another moment. “I’ve never really thought about how short a second is.” Pressing the watch to his ear again, he frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t care for it either,” she replied, taking the watch back from his outstretched hand. “Is it better or worse than a spy?”

“Right, I did say I would tell you about those.” He chuckled. “For the record, it’s better. Only slightly better.” He drew his knees up to himself and rested his arms across them, leaning forward against the heat of the fire. “Unfortunately, it seems like I have grown up around traitors.” He began.

Too late, she remembered his mother, and hoped that he wouldn’t lose it again like he had that night. She wanted to part on good terms this time.

“Family members aside, I’ve seen countless nobles turned away from the kingdom for various levels of treachery. An attempt on my father’s life was made once. The perpetrator was sent to the Trench.” A haunted look flitted across his stony face for a moment. He had become less jovial with the telling of his stories.

“What is the Trench?” she asked. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she hastily followed-up.

“No, I should tell you.” He replied. “The Trench is one of the Kingdoms…in name only. It is inhabited by a horde of vicious creatures who have lost all semblance of humanity, although long ago, they looked like you and me. Centuries of living in a dark and hostile rift caused them to evolve into monsters. Their isolation drove them to savagery, and they now haunt the outer reaches of the inhabited sea.” He made little attempt to hide the dread on his face. “Their God-forsaken territory is where the throne sends its worst offenders…to die.”

“That’s horrible,” she murmured.

“It’s the consequence of treason.” He shrugged, his face still laden with melancholy. She felt there was more to his opinion than what he was willing to vocalize, but she knew better than to prod him for his true feelings.

“I suppose you’re right.” She responded. “I guess I’m just not used to a system like that.”

“We give them a fair trial.” He reassured her, his gaze softening slightly. “We would never send someone to the Trench without justification.” She nodded.

“I believe you.” He paused for another moment, studying her face, searching for any evidence that she was lying. Her gaze was placid and unwavering, and he found himself unable to sustain eye contact for more than a moment. He felt his face grow warm despite the dying fire.

“Should I look for more wood to keep it going?” she asked. He turned back towards the dwindling flame, watching it hunch lower over the wood. It had consumed nearly everything. The chill was setting in again. All he wanted to do was watch the glowing red patches of wood disappear into the night, but he couldn’t stay here forever.

“It seems late,” he finally said. He looked her in the eye again, briefly, still finding it hard to gaze at her.

“It does,” she replied, stretching her arms in front of her. She hopped to her feet. “I’m going home for some tea before bed. Maybe next time, I can bring some for you.”

“I think I would like that.” He replied, gingerly placing his hands back into the cold gauntlets, slowly rising to his feet.

“Is it warmer in Atlantis than it is here?” she asked.

“It’ll be warm enough,” he said. “I’ll be cold the whole way back, though.”

“I wish fire was something you could take with you.” She sighed. She scooped handfuls of sand over the last dying embers, despite knowing that nothing in this cove would catch fire even if she had left it alone. She steeled herself to step into the cold water once more. Orm was already down by the water’s edge.

“I’m going now. Get home safely, (Y/N.)” He called. “Thank you for keeping me warm.”

“Take care of yourself,” she replied. She made her way to the shore, watching him wade into the water, noticing him pick up speed as he got deeper. Soon he had dove under the wavering, black surface of the cold waves. She picked her way through the shallows. Ignoring the way the cold bit at her ankles, she made it to her boat and brought it around the cape, back into the harbor, feeling wistful.

She thought of his warmly illuminated face that night as she drifted off to sleep.


	18. A Taste of Sweetness

Orm dreamed of fire that night. A pale, blue fire on a high cliff. In the dream, his mother stood beside the fire, moving closer and closer to it, until it leapt onto her and engulfed her. 

When he woke in a panic, all he could think about was the fact that he was alone. He turned over and focused on the tiny specks floating amidst the faint beams of light in the room, wishing he was looking at something else instead. He thought of the stars.

\- 

The grocery store lights were buzzing faintly overhead. It wasn’t busy this time of morning, so (Y/N) could hear the electricity buzzing through the lightbulbs. Despite having visited this section of the store multiple times, she still couldn't settle on a good box of tea. 

Jess was pacing with the cart on one last loop, ensuring they hadn't forgotten anything. She was curious as to why this weekly grocery run had to be drawn out over such an inconsequential choice; (Y/N) had always bought the same varieties of tea every time they drove into town. When she had arrived back at the tea aisle, (Y/N) was holding a few boxes of tea. She seemed satisfied with her selections--which were, indeed, the same two kinds of tea she always bought--but she tapped her foot impatiently on the dingy linoleum at checkout. It seemed like she hoped the cashier would ring them up first and bring her indecision to a close.

-

When she saw Orm that night, he expressed a desire to avoid the beach. She had brought newspapers and extra wood in case he’d wanted a proper campfire, but the night air was warm this time, so the fire would have been redundant anyways—that is what she convinced herself. He did, however, accept her invitation to sit in the boat for a cup of tea. He made the transition from his sea dragon to the bench more smoothly this time than the last.

“I brought some tea for you.” She said. He nodded.

As he watched, she produced a metal thermos and two mugs from a box behind her seat. When she unscrewed the thermos, little wisps of steam floated up from the hot tea. It reminded Orm of the cloudy, nearly-boiling water that came from undersea vents; he could tell already that the substance would be hot. When she placed the earthenware mug in his hands, it felt as though it was glowing. The warmth was pleasant.

“I made a mild tea since I wasn’t sure what you’d like. This is chamomile.” She poured some of the pale-gold liquid into her own mug and took a light sip. “Test it with your lips first. It might be a little too hot for you to drink right away.” 

He watched her take a few more sips before raising the cup to his mouth. He tilted the mug slowly, daunted by the approaching warmth on the air, until he felt the tea brushing against his lips. It wasn’t so bad. He took a slow sip, letting the mellow flavor sit on his tongue for a few moments. It was decidedly herbal, but barely detectable. He was too accustomed to eating strongly-spiced meals, which overcompensated for the salt of the ocean. The tea tasted like it was nothing.

“Is it too bitter?” she asked. In dismay, he realized that his disappointment must have been perceptible. 

“Not at all,” he reassured her. “It’s just that I can barely taste it.” He watched the corners of her mouth draw taut in a slight frown. “—but it’s not bad!” he added.

“I could add some honey to it if you’d like. That would make it sweeter—then you’d be able to taste something, at least.” She set the mug beside her on the bench and turned to fish around in the box again, finally producing a spoon and a small glass jar. It was too dark to tell what the substance in the jar looked like, although faint moonlight refracted through it in an opaque, ghostly sheet, suggesting liquid. 

“Hold out your mug,” she prompted as she unscrewed the lid. He did as she asked, extending the cup towards her, and she placed a spoon overflowing with the thick amber honey into the mug, managing not to drizzle any on the bottom of the boat. “Now stir it in and see if it made a difference,” she suggested. Not wanting him to suspect any tricks, she produced a second spoon and dolloped some honey into her mug too, taking a hasty sip. After stirring gingerly, he took another sip, a smile creeping onto the corners of his mouth.

“That’s much better,” he said.

“Good!” she smiled, watching him take a third sip. “Do you have anything like this in Atlantis?”

“Why does it seem like you always ask that?” he chuckled, shaking his head and taking another sip. “No, we don’t have anything like this.” 

“That’s a shame.”

“My turn to ask a question. Why don’t you skip the tea and just drink honey?” he said, eyebrows raised slightly. She laughed. “I’m being serious! It does so much to improve the flavor, why bother with the tea at all?”

“Well, this is a really mild tea, so there’s not much flavor to it—not all tea is the same though! There’s probably a tea for everything,” she responded, thinking back to the impossible choice at the grocery store. “And people eat honey all the time…at least, I do. Do you want to try some?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded, fishing the spoon out of his cup and handing it to her. She dipped it in the honey, turning it to the side and twisting it in the air to let the extra honey drizzle off. The silver spoon glinted in the moonlight as it turned. 

Gesturing for him to cup his hand under the spoon, to catch any spilled honey, she handed it off to him. Without hesitation, he raised the spoon to his mouth, drawing the billowing mass of honey through his parted lips. The sweetness sparked across his tongue, completely distracting him from the thin sheet of honey left over on his lips. He drew the spoon back out of his mouth, finally swallowing the golden liquid. 

“You’ve still got some honey on your mouth,” she said, eyes wandering across the moonlit sheen the honey added to his rosy mouth. Her gaze broke from him as he licked his lips. Unconsciously, she clasped her hands in her lap.

“Thank you,” he said. “Usually I would be more concerned about my appearance, but I suppose I was caught up in the euphoria of honey.” He clasped the back of his neck with his hand, casting his own gaze out to sea. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she asked with a smile. He nodded. “When I was growing up, my neighbors kept bees—which make honey; that’s a whole other story—but anyways, I lived next to a virtually unlimited source of the stuff.”

“Are bees like livestock?” he asked. “What do they look like?”

“They’re little flying creatures. They’re round and fat and fuzzy, and they’ve got black and gold stripes, but they’ll sting you if you get too close.” She marveled at the novelty of explaining bees to a grown man. Even so, she was sure that experiencing his culture would prompt her to ask so many simple questions about his own daily life.

“So they’re like the fire, then. You can’t get too close, or you’ll get hurt.”

“Yeah, I guess they are similar.” She said. “I know I told you that most things on the surface aren’t like that, and yet I’ve only provided you with evidence that they are.” She paused for a moment, watching the humor fade from his face. “The honey is separate from the bees, though. At least the food they make is completely harmless and good.”

“You’re right,” he said, “as far as I can tell.” There was a long silence, with nothing but the intrusive push and pull of the waves as they lapped at the boat. They sipped the tea.

“You’re making me look at the world all over again, Orm,” she murmured, at last.

“You’re allowing me to catch glimpses of it for the first time, (Y/N)” he replied. “I’m thankful for that. I’m—” his voice broke for a moment, and he swallowed. “I’m thankful to see bits and pieces of the world my mother loved.” 

“I’m honored to be the one showing it to you,” she said. “I’m still so sorry for your loss. But I think…I think she’d be proud of you for opening up a little bit,” (Y/N) chose her word carefully, scanning every slight movement in his expression, hoping the peace would be kept. 

“I think so too,” he said, face turned to the bottom of the boat. “I’m a little tired,” he said, after another pause.

“Of course—you can go whenever you need to,” she said, voice soft with sympathy for him, and gentle with relief that there would not be another outburst. He turned his face upwards again, towards her, and reached out to clasp her hands in his.

“Thank you for the tea, (Y/N). Thank you for everything.” He said. As he rose to his feet, she rose with him, their hands still grasping one another. 

“Of course,” she said. “You’re very welcome, Prince Orm.”

“You can just call me ‘Orm,’” he smiled, finally letting go of her hands. With a sharp whistle, he drew the sea dragon up from the depths, and stepped gracefully onto the saddle. His motion above the surface of the water had become more regal and graceful with practice.

“Okay, Orm,” she paused, catching herself smiling after speaking his name. “Have a good night. I’ll bring a stronger tea for you next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I wanted to let everyone know that there will be a two weekends in September where I won't be able to post, mostly due to travel. The fanfic will not be updated on the following dates: 9/7/2019 and 9/21/2019.
> 
> I'll repeat this message in the notes at the end of each chapter up until the 7th but after that I'll probably forget to keep the notification going.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who reads this fic! You're all absolute gems and I appreciate you so much <3
> 
> (also pls ignore the cheesy chapter title this is the best i could come up with)


	19. Seasonal Poisoning

Orm awoke with a bitter feeling in the back of his throat. It was sore—an unfamiliar feeling. He suspected foul play. 

Mentally listing all the foods he had eaten in the past 24 hours, he immediately recalled the tea and honey. Growing more apprehensive, he began to wonder if the food had been poisoned in some way that (Y/N) would be naturally resistant to, in some way that had been designed to harm him. He moved about his room mechanically, slowly donning his lightweight armor. He wore the set that glistened like pearls as the light moved across it. _If I’m going to die, I might as well die wearing something nice,_ he thought. 

Instead of walking along the pallid hallway into the main throneroom, as was his morning custom, Orm lingered in his room. He stalked to a window with a view opposite the city, which looked out onto the massive crater walls surrounding Atlantis, and the massive sleeping canons atop them. Pain creeped its way through his temples, settling around his eyes, until he could feel the sockets behind them. 

_Am I really going to die?_ The thought arrived in his mind with as little gravity as a thought of when to eat his next meal, or what to wear. Experimenting with his muscles, he clenched his fist as tight as he possibly could, which lessened the pain in his head a little, but did nothing to alleviate the pain in his throat. _Was it a muscular toxin, then? But what about the pain in my throat?_

He slouched over the windowsill, hanging his head low and peering down at the courtyard below. Schools of fish swarmed past, somewhere below him, and the sunlight glinting from their silver scales dizzied him. He paced to his door and knocked weakly on the smooth surface. He requested the guard, perpetually stationed just outside, to fetch the doctor. Then he went back to bed.

The pain was worse when he laid back. The pillow felt like stone against his skull, offering no comfort. Tossing and turning, his thoughts ran the same circle over and over: (Y/N) had poisoned him—she must have. Was it a suicide mission, since she drank the tea too? Possibly—although chances were strong that the poison was a toxin she had built a resistance against. The only motivation she would have to poison him was clear: she must know his brother. _The bastard half-breed must want my throne,_ he thought. _This is Vulko’s fault._

Vulko had betrayed the throne—Orm had known this for several months now. He had planned on leveraging this knowledge to use in his favor, when the right opportunity arose. Was he wrong to hesitate? Could Vulko have been grooming his brother to take the throne? And then recruited a surface girl to ensure the throne would be empty for him? 

The pain associated with Vulko’s betrayal had lessened over time, until the knowledge had become just another fact of life for Orm. His anger towards his half-brother had never lessened, but he had come to accept it as constant. And yet, this train of thought upset him deeply. Disappointed, he realized that his pain could only come from the idea of the girl’s treachery. 

In the name of objectivity, he searched for anything about this theory that might make it untrue. One thing that had bothered him was that the timing of this poisoning seemed odd. Orvax was still alive, making any attempt on the throne futile; another heir could be produced in such extreme circumstances, or a trusted official selected as his benefactor. It was possible that the scheme was originally going to play out over a longer period of time, but was hastened so that Orm would not have time to grow suspicious. Or perhaps Vulko had urged the girl to poison him sooner rather than later, if Vulko knew that Orm was aware of his treachery. Perhaps the entire thing was motivated by simple malice. In any case, Orm had been taken for a fool, and he despaired.

At this moment, a sharp rap on the door shook him back to reality, the sound shooting pains through his skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very chaotic week for me. I just finished writing the chapter before posting it, and I'm sure some of the turbulence in my state of mind has come through in the writing. Here's hoping you're all having a better time than Orm is (and I am) right now


	20. Isolation

The knocking persisted.

“Come in,” Orm called, propping himself up slightly. The doctor glided into his chamber with two assistants in tow, accompanied by a guard. 

Orm was careful to explain his symptoms without including any details of the foreign foods. Even in confidence that he had come up with the right theory, Orm wanted the doctors analysis to be as unfettered by presupposition as possible, so he insisted that he wasn’t sure where the illness had come from. The doctor begrudgingly worked with what little information he had been given, and after examining Orm’s throat and feeling for tension in the muscles around his neck, he had come to some sort of conclusion.

“How long do I have left?” Orm asked, plaintively. The mere act of speech made his throat feel like needles were lodged in it.

“Oh, that’s anybody’s guess,” the physician replied. Orm’s heart sunk. “You’re not going to die, if that’s what you were asking.”

“I’m…not?”

“No. Your sinuses are inflamed.” the doctor replied. “I don’t know what’s making you ill but I can prescribe something that might alleviate it—once we determine the source.” Orm nodded. The doctor pulled a key from his pocket, handing it to one of the assistants and sending them to fetch a specific vial from one of his medicine cabinets. She left promptly, leaving the doctor to further question Orm.

“You haven’t been anywhere new recently, have you?” the physician asked.

“No; I’ve been spending all my time in the palace these days.” Orm replied. The questions continued, inquiring as to whether he had received any strange gifts, whether his sea dragon had been acting out of the ordinary recently, whether he had changed his diet or the materials in his clothing. Most of these questions were dismissed by the young prince with statements of his ignorance; only stable attendants or underbutlers or personal chefs would know the answers to these questions. A prince had more vital issues to occupy his mind. 

The servant returned with several medicinal elixirs. Exasperated, the physician eventually gave up questioning.

“I’m at a loss, Your Highness. I know what might help you, so I guess I can prescribe that and continue to monitor you for now, but we might have to try a few different things if that doesn’t work.”

“The idea is acceptable.” Orm replied. “I will follow your advice.” Having recovered from the assumption that he would be dead soon, he had regained some of his dignified attitude. Nevertheless, he felt he had perhaps been too informal and relaxed with the doctor today. _I’ve become too accustomed to interacting with that surface girl,_ he chided himself. 

The physician left behind a vial of medicine, explaining how and when to take it, and took his leave.

Orm was alone again. For the indefinite future, he knew, he would be confined to this room and constrained to various remedies, affording him ample time to reach a new conclusion. His misery had somewhat lessened. 

\--

(Y/N) had paddled out to sea for three nights with no sign of Orm. Each time, she had brought a newly-brewed thermos of chai with her, only to return home and drink a cup on her own. 

On the fourth night, she stayed home, sitting at her bedroom window and staring down the cliff face into the little cove. There were still traces of ash in the sand from the fire she had built, leaving a tiny dark spot which had been untouched by the tides. She opened the window to smell the salt air, listening to the whispered sound of the waves and the occasional intrusive clanks from night construction at the hotel. They had been building overtime recently, likely in a rush to have things operational for the next tourist season. Involuntarily, she sighed at the thought of new and unfamiliar masses pouring into town, flooding from the coastal highway. It felt as though some faceless entity crouched in the immediate future, preparing to send ripples across the surface of her life. She was not ready.

\--

Five days of sitting in excruciating silence had proven itself to be maddening. For the first several days, Orm was under constant surveillance, due to new paranoia of an invader in the castle. He had heard of at least two nobles who had been cast off from the king’s good graces, presumably sent to a traitor’s death. He did not ask for specifics; he had not asked for this information in the first place.

The headache had subsided by the third day, the sore throat by the fourth, and he was hopeful that perhaps he could be released soon. 

His concerns over an intentional poisoning had been eased by the knowledge that his condition was not fatal. There was no point in an assassination attempt if it was not guaranteed to work; therefore, the surface girl had been vindicated. By extension, he reluctantly admitted, so had Vulko and the half-breed. Still, only one of the three could be considered trustworthy. Grasping the irony of the situation once again, Orm stifled a laugh. 

He envisioned the sight of the stars once again. Orm was more than ready for the guards and the physician and the physician’s assistants to go away, leaving him to a more pleasant form of solitude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just a reminder (which I should have also posted last week, but forgot to) that I won't be updating 9/7/19 (that's next week!) or 9/21/19. 
> 
> That being said, very good stuff is right around the corner. I'm writing ahead right now ^^


	21. Light Like Stars

For the second night in a row, she was sitting at the window with a steaming cup of tea. More than once, the thought had crossed her mind that somehow he had been caught returning that night, then questioned by his own family, and then…

Jess had invited her to see a movie tonight, but (Y/N) had declined for reasons unknown even to herself. Between her worries towards Orm and the impending feeling that her town was morphing into something other than _her_ town, she felt inexplicably tethered to this place. It was an uncomfortable and paranoid impulse, fueled perhaps by the thought that if she stayed behind and kept watch, nothing would go wrong. 

Her gaze shifted from the quiet bay towards her phone, laying on the table beside the window, for just a moment. _Should I text Jess? Has she left yet?_ It was barely dark out. Jess was probably still around, but not for long. As (Y/N) reached for the phone to check the time, a glint of light caught her eye in the bay. Setting the phone back down, she snapped to attention.

Below her, in the cove, stood a figure with a lantern. He was clad in glinting metal armor and wore a circlet on his head, resting on golden tresses. Immediately she threw the window open and ripped the metal screen from its place in the windowframe so she could poke her head out.

“Orm?” she called, hoping that her stage-whisper would echo off the canyon walls without attracting undue attention for anyone else who might be in the neighborhood. She half-expected the figure to dissolve into nothing.

“(Y/N)! It’s me!” he replied, calling as loud as he dared. He raised the lantern to his upturned face, grinning brilliantly. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment—it really was him.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes!” she called, setting her mug of tea on the table and racing out of the house. In her haste, she completely forgot to shut the window, and barely remembered to bring her house keys with her. She pedaled down the hill as fast as she could manage, praying no people or cars might show up in her path. At the marina, she dropped her bike next to Theo’s vacant shack and raced down the pier, firing up the motor in her boat immediately. When she rounded the cliff into the cove, he was sitting on the sand with the lantern nestled beside him. 

As she stepped into the water towards him, he rose to his feet. She hadn’t dressed for this occasion—her jeans were instantly soaked below the knees—but she was barely aware of it.

“I was worried,” she said immediately, as she neared him on the sand. “I don’t know why, but I was worried you wouldn’t come back.” Orm raised his eyebrows, touched by her immediate honesty.

“Is that because you tried to poison me?” he asked, laughing. Her face went pale.

“Did you get sick?” she asked. “Oh God, are you allergic to chamomile?”

“I guess I am. Or honey. I got sick,” he said. “I really did think you had tried to poison me at first.”

“I hadn’t thought about how trying surface food would affect you.” She replied. “In hindsight, it’s so obvious. I’m glad you’re okay,” she said, as he beckoned for her sit. The pair lowered to the sand.

“I didn’t think about it either,” he said. “But as soon as the doctor told me I wasn’t going to die, I knew you hadn’t meant any harm.”

“Did you tell him about me?” 

“No. I didn’t tell him anything about us.” He raised his hand to push a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

“I guess that would have put you in more trouble than me, anyways.” She replied, after a moment of thought. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m just glad to be out of my room again,” he fiddled with the lantern in his lap while he spoke. It was vaguely orb-shaped, like an opaque seashell, glowing a peachy orange. There were shallow ridges along the surface and tiny holes perforated in it which spilled light onto his face in dots.

“That’s a beautiful lantern,” she spoke after a moment of silence.

“It makes everything look like the stars,” he replied. “While I was stuck indoors down there…I came to miss the sky. And I missed having someone to talk too, as well.” She wasn’t sure if there was some color in his cheeks, or if it was the warm light of the Atlantean lantern.

“Were you alone that whole time? Nobody came to visit you?” she asked, incredulous. He shook his head.

“Not a soul, besides the physician or one of his attendants every few hours.”

“Your father…?”

“Had more important things to attend to.” his voice was grim.

“I would have visited you every day, if I could have,” said (Y/N), drawing her knees to her chest and resting her arms across them. She knew that there would be some color on her own cheeks now, feeling warmth on her face.

“I would have liked that,” he returned. “It doesn’t feel the same talking to anyone down there. They’re all keenly aware that I outrank them, something you refused to accept altogether.” He chuckled. “Sometimes I wish I could meet more people who don’t know who I am, or who don’t initially believe me when I tell them.” She smiled.

“Move to the surface,” she laughed. “Nobody would believe you at all.”

“What, and fall ill every time I eat something? I’d rather not!”

“There’s always fish,” she said, watching the lantern light wobble on his face as he set the object back in the sand. The light felt unnatural in that it never wavered or flickered like a fire, but was warmer and crisper than synthetic light. If she hadn’t been distracted by the shape of his jawline or the blue in his eyes, she might have wondered how it was produced.

“I could stay with you,” he replied, after gazing into her eyes for a moment longer than felt natural. “At least until I find my own living arrangements. Maybe something more ornate than what you currently have,” his gaze flicked up the cliffside to her house. 

“I would have a lot to explain if a strange man moved in with me,” she laughed. “People might get the wrong idea.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well, you know. They’d think that we’re…involved” she raised her hand to move a strand of hair from her face, but before it could get there, he reached out and gently tucked it behind her ear. He had leaned much closer now, a smile perched on the corners of his lips.

“I’ve been sneaking out nights to meet a girl for over a month now. I’d say we’re definitely involved in _something._ ” his voice drifted low and she realized that she had been looking at his lips for too long. She averted her eyes for a moment.

“I thought you had a fiancée,” she whispered. “That other princess you mentioned.”

“I have no interest in her,” he responded. “That plan for a marriage is my father’s, not mine—and definitely not agreed upon yet.”

“Then, are you saying that you’re interested in me?”

“I missed you. More than I had a right to. More than you’d miss a friend.” He had somehow managed to lean even closer, until she could barely feel the warmth of his breath on face.

“I missed you too.” Her voice was a whisper now as she closed the distance between them. “I missed you in the same way.” 

Their lips met, and the lantern cast stars across their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I will be in Sweden next Saturday--and unable to update the fanfic! So look for the next chapter on 9/28/19!!)


	22. (not a real chapter)

Hi everyone! Author here. 

Sweden was nice, but i've been so swamped with schoolwork since coming back that I haven't been able to write the next chapter! I really appreciate your patience and I hate to disappoint any of you who were looking forward to the next installment today. Please expect it sometime this week, or a chapter that's twice as long on the next upload date, depending on what I have time to write. This story is absolutely not over yet! You'll hear more soon. 

Thanks again to all of you who have been reading this fic! Your feedback and readership means so much to me ^^

Until next time!


	23. Compass

It wasn’t until after the kiss that she realized how often her thoughts were drawn to him. 

Throughout the next day, between waiting tables and answering tourists’ questions, images of last night kept bouncing into her head. She recalled the hushed words of affection he had spoken to her. The reassuring warmth of his hand wrapped around hers as he had walked her to the boat, which distracted her entirely from the cold saltwater lapping at her knees. She recalled the way he had lingered for an extra moment, color flashing across his cheeks, before descending in to the waves. How the light from his lantern dwindled in the murky water, but still shone bright multitudes in her mind’s eye.

More than once, while she was supposed to be cleaning tables with a window view, she caught herself gazing idly at the water on the horizon. It was a cloudy day. The colors of the town and the shoreline looked pale and washed out, in sharp contrast to the dark, slate-grey ocean. Despite the knowledge that gazing at the sea would not bring him back to her any faster, she found an inexplicable comfort in knowing that he was there. So she allowed herself one last glance at the grey and churning ocean, and then returned her attention to the dirty dishes and the cleaning rags.

-

The moments between thoughts of her were painful, but offered a strange relief from the otherwise searing gaze of palace attendants. Since he had begun thinking of her, since he had made the decision to keep seeing her, interactions between himself and other Atlanteans had become rigid and tense. 

He made every effort not to reveal his unease, but deep down, there was an unshakeable paranoia that everybody knew what he was doing in the shadows. He did not want to become another name whispered only in deep corridors by serving-staff when the nobility has gone to sleep. He did not want to become another ghost story. But for every anxious interaction between himself and one of the palace attendants—or even worse, his father—he could recall a moment of equal comfort in the presence of his confidante. 

(Y/N) was the only person in his universe who was not obligated to humor him, and yet she chose to spend time with him anyways. Besides listening to him, she dared to voice her disagreements. Every response was genuine. Even in her critique, there was comfort; a reassurance that he did not always have to be right. It was unlike the harsh and unforgiving correction he had received from Orvax, and even from Vulko at times. Although there was no room for missteps surrounding the circumstances of their meetings, he was safe to make mistakes as long as he was beside her. He could breathe.

In the rare moments when he could drift outside the throneroom, where he otherwise spent hours listening in on his fathers meetings, he sought a secluded balcony on the west edge of the palace. From there, he imagined he could feel the warmth of the sunlight as it made its way down in thin shafts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is a short chapter so expect another one tomorrow ^^)


	24. Dusk

There was a green quilted picnic blanket which she had always kept draped over the back of the couch in the living room. It had made the trip across the country from her midwestern home, only to fall into relative misuse. It didn’t even fit in with the local scenery of the coastal town; little moose and bear silhouettes alternated direction in rows across the quilt. But it had never really fit in at home either—she’d grown up in the suburbs, after all. 

Having spread it out on the sand tonight, she waited in the cove as the sun hovered low over the horizon. For the first time, they had planned this meeting. His father was away, visiting one of the other kingdoms for the sake of negotiations, leaving him to his own devices. He could leave the kingdom before dark, for once. 

She traced the curved backs of the printed bears with her finger, waiting for him. Secretly, she hoped he would ask about the pattern on the blanket, just as an excuse to tell him something nice about nature on the surface. Based on how he had spoken about the world so far, it seemed like he would be most open to the concept of surface wildlife. Plus, it might open him up to speak more about the general atmosphere in Atlantis. She wondered if there were more unheard of creatures, like the sea dragon, living below the surface.

Before there was even any pink in the sky, he had appeared in the shallows. She had been excited to actually watch the sunset with him—something she doubted he’d ever really seen firsthand—but hadn’t realized how handsome he would look in a new light. The sun had sunk low enough to turn everything a warm shade of gold, which deepened the vibrancy of his golden armor. She rose to meet him at the shore, marveling at the hints of rosy light on his face, which made his complexion glow. As she approached him, he beamed, and she was unable to stop a matching smile from breaking across her face.

“Your armor matches the sunset,” she said at last, sliding her hands into his. Even though she was standing on a slightly higher piece of the beach than him, she still had to tilt her chin upwards to look at his face. His eyes were deep blue in the last shreds of daylight, with flecks of silvery-grey breaking up the vibrant color. She hadn’t been able to see the silver flecks nearly as well in the moonlight.

“I’m glad I dressed appropriately. I wasn’t sure what to expect,” he replied sheepishly, looking away for a moment. 

“I just hope you’re not too uncomfortable in it. I’d imagine it weighs a bit more on land,” she replied. They ambled along the beach, making their way towards the picnic blanket.

“Nothing I can’t handle.” He replied. “I’m used to wearing armor.”

“Is it more of a fashion thing, or a military preparedness thing?”

“The latter…my father is not a very fashion-minded person.” he laughed.

“I see,” she smiled, glad to hear some levity in his voice for once. “You have a nice sense of style, though,” she said. He shook his head. 

“It’s just something I can control about my life,” he replied. “Some variation is always nice.” The pair walked in silence for a few moments before settling on the blanket. They had taken a roundabout way across the short cove’s beach and back, which gave the sun more time to sink. It had touched the horizon now. Paying more attention to his relaxed expression than to the sunset, she absorbed the scene quietly. Her hand rested near his on the blanket, but she hesitated to bridge that gap. He was entranced by the sunset; she didn’t want to interrupt that. Once the sun had disappeared, he seemed to return to her.

“What did you think?” she asked at last. 

“You get to see that every day?”

“Yeah,” she looked back at the pinkish-purple ring of the horizon. “It’s not always this nice, though. Today was a really good one.”

“In Atlantis the lighting just changes color once it’s nighttime. It just gets a little darker.” He sighed.

“Maybe you could find a way to add some color to it? Some warmth?”

“You mean when I’m king?” he laughed. “I’ll probably have bigger problems to deal with then.” 

“That’s no reason to ignore the little things.” She spoke without thinking much about whether or not she should. She hoped that he wouldn’t think she was pretentious for offering her opinion in such a quippy format. “I mean, obviously it’s not crucial to survival, but…”

“No, you’re right. There’s no reason not to improve daily life.” He was quiet for a moment. “I guess I tend to assume everything worth changing happens on a large scale.”

“That makes sense though; being king is a big-picture sort of task,” she said. “I don’t know anything about royalty, though.”

“Don’t worry, I’m aware,” he squeezed her hand as she laughed.

“You don’t meet a prince everyday!” she said, feigning insult. “How am I supposed to know anything about court politics?”

“I’m glad that you don’t,” he admitted. “I feel like a different person around you.”

“Is that a good thing, though?” she asked, tilting her head a little. He broke eye contact with her for a moment to think, looking at the blanket. 

“I think so.” He said. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” She nodded, although he was still looking away from her. “I’m enjoying it at the moment.”

“I’m glad,” she said. His eyes drifted back up to hers. “I’m enjoying it too.” They were quiet again for a few moments, and she began to trace the bears with her free hand again. 

“By the way,” he spoke again, breaking the silence. “What is the print on this blanket supposed to be?”


	25. Sold Short

When she mentioned that the bears and moose were surface animals, she waited to gauge his level of interest in hearing further. His expression was hard to read, as usual, but didn’t seem uninterested. She continued.

“These are bears,” she said, tapping on the bear silhouette. “I guess you don’t have anything comparable underwater, but they’re basically apex predators. They’re huge and covered in fur,” he blinked. “Uh, like short hair, but softer.” He nodded. “Like I said, they’re huge. They can be taller than me even when they’re walking on four legs, but they also can stand up on their hind legs if they want.” Orm squinted at the outline. “I guess I should have brought pictures,” she laughed.

“That might have been better,” he admitted. “I have an idea of what you mean, though.”

“You might actually like bears. They’re fond of water. Really good swimmers,” she trailed off, raking her brain for anything else that might be interesting to him.

“And the other?” he asked, pointing to the moose.

“Those are moose. They’re not predators, but they’re just as big as bears. Oh, and they like water too. They mostly eat water plants.”

“And these protrusions on its head…?” he traced the antlers. She thought for a moment.

“Those are antlers,” she began. “Picture…well, your sea dragons have kind of long faces, right?” he nodded. From the glimpses she had caught, they almost had horse-like faces, but she had wanted to confirm. “Picture if your sea dragon had two symmetric branches of coral growing on its head. Like, naturally. Pretend it’s supposed to have those.”

“Do they serve a purpose?” he asked.

“Sort of! They fight one another using their antlers sometimes. But they also shed their antlers seasonally; it’s as harmless as getting a haircut. You do…get your hair cut, right?” Orm laughed.

“You think it just grew to this length and stopped after that? Yes, I get my hair cut,” 

“Okay, okay” she laughed. “I don’t like making assumptions,”

“You’re fine,” his tone became warm again. “I don’t expect you to know things about me. I’ve withheld a lot of information in the past, before I was sure about you. It appears you know a lot about surface animals, though,”

“I was gonna be a biologist,” she said. “I even went to school for it, but then I got this internship opportunity. And at first I was excited to be working in the field, but at the same time, I felt like…an impostor. Like I was taking a job position away from someone who deserved it more than me.” She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her free arm around them. “I wasn’t _bad_ at it, necessarily. I did my best, but when the contract was over, well, my boss didn’t seem to sad to see me go.”

“Did you try again?” he asked. “With someone new? Somewhere else?”

“No…” she said, “I didn’t. I finished college and I moved out here, because it seemed like it would be nice to try something less demanding.” After she was quiet for a few moments, he squeezed her hand.

“You sold yourself short, (Y/N),” he said. She looked him in the eye again, expecting to find an expression of disappointment. Instead, his brows were gathered in concern. “I think you should find a way to try again.”

“What if it’s the same as last time?”

“What if it’s not?” she sighed in response. “Listen to me. You already know what to do if it _is_ like last time. You can just come back here, and keep working at a low-maintenance job, and go out on your boat every night and keep seeing me.” The corner of her mouth pulled into a slight smile at the last part. “But if it’s not like last time, that means it can only get better. Right?”

“I guess you’re right. Maybe I’ll look into it,” she said. He squeezed her hand again, and she squeezed his back. “Thank you,” she said. 

“Of course. You shouldn’t waste your potential, (Y/N.)” He paused for another moment, looking out at the sea. “I think you’re the kind of person who could change things for the better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! This has nothing to do with the fic, but I just wanted to share a PSA. My laptop, which I only had for about a year, is completely toast! The hard drive failed for no discernable reason so I’m now writing from an older, jankier laptop. Not to worry though—I had all my important files backed up on an external hard drive. So please let this be a warning to you! It doesn’t matter how new your computer is, things might still go wrong. Save yourself a massive headache and keep at least your most important files backed up on a USB drive or something. Alright, that’s all from me. 'Til next time. XOXO.)


	26. Tether

She was gradually improving at managing her thoughts towards him. Although every interaction with Jess, or her boss, or a guest at the café was colored with the knowledge that she was living a double-life, she kept her footing. She was reframing her sense of “normal.” 

Without considering her situation too objectively, she was content to accept that she had found someone to confide in. She had found sanctuary in a stranger-turned-friend, which was a common enough occurrence, and readily acceptable. If she threw out the existence of Altantis altogether, he was just a handsome visitor from another town. And that was how she saw him, for the most part—especially when he was with her in person. But the one thing which kept her from gushing to Jess about him, or telling her mother that she might have found someone, was the thing she needed to ignore in order to fully live in the situation. He was completely impossible, but he existed anyways.

The transience of her grasp on the relationship was only heightened with the arrival of an envelope in the mail. Her childhood home address was printed neatly across the corner. It was a wedding invitation from her mother. (Y/N) had several months to spare before it would really be time to think about the wedding, but the certainty of the invitation added yet another element of the surreal to her own life. 

For several days in a row, evening rainstorms prevented her from venturing onto the ocean, soaking the ground well into the next morning each time. Despite the muddy conditions on the construction lot, the hotel continued to expand. The diner continued to hum with visitors every day. It felt strange operating in a world that moved independently of him. 

-

It wasn’t long before a break in the sour weather gave her a clear night. Shortly after arriving in the cove, her moonlit prince joined her. For the first time since she had met him, he was wearing something other than a suit of armor. Not as tight as the bodysuits he had described to her—which were the main alternative to armor in Atlantis—he wore a longsleeve, navy-blue, woven shirt and matching pants. It looked almost like a tracksuit. The usual gold circlet remained on his head.

“So, I was right about the armor being heavy?” she teased, stepping from the boat into the shallows. He opened his arms to embrace her there.

“Maybe,” he replied, pulling her into his chest. She hadn’t been able to feel how solid his chest was through the armor. She hadn’t been able to hear his quickened heartbeat before. 

“I wish we weren’t at the mercy of the weather,” she sighed, pulling away after a few more moments of silence in his arms. “the rain has been awful.” They started towards the shore.

“I came up here on the first night anyways,” he said. “I could see the light from your house all the way over there,” he paused to gesture towards a few short boulders that stuck out from the sea at the far end of the cove, “so I knew you wouldn’t be out here.”

They had reached the beach, but the sand was wet and sucked at their feet with every sinking step. 

“I guess the cove is still waterlogged,” she sighed. “I hadn’t thought of that,”

“We could sit in your boat again,” he offered. 

“I sort of wanted to lay down and look at the stars,” she said, realizing that she had left the green blanket in the boat anyways. “I think the boat is wide enough, though,”

“I guess we’ll see,” he replied. They trudged back to where the boat was anchored, finding it easier to move in the water than it had been on the wet sand. 

Wordlessly, he offered his hand as she climbed into the boat. She took it, then stood inside the boat to help him gain his footing as he boarded the small vessel. They swayed as it lilted with the new passenger, free hands finding one another as they sought more reference points for balance. Their elbows stuck out like ballroom dancers as they tilted side-to-side against the rocking of the boat.

“I never learned the steps to _this_ dance,” he laughed, waiting for the boat to settle. 

“You dance underwater?” she could imagine the coordinated bobbing of floating pairs in a lofty, blue-tinted Atlantis ballroom.

“Of course,” he smiled. “I wish you could visit me the same way I visit you. Then I could teach you, if you wanted.”

“That would be lovely,” she admitted, lowering to her seat. He followed suit, sitting across from her. She stopped imagining the Atlantis ballroom—the spoken acknowledgement that she would never really see it left a bitter feeling. 

Orm put the thought of it out of his mind as well, for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Voicing the wish had not lessened its pull on him. He leaned back on the seat, craning his neck backwards so he could see the stars.

“This isn’t an incredibly comfortable vantage point,” he reminded her. 

“Right, I think there’s room for both of us to lay in the bottom.” she rose to her feet slowly again, so as not to rock the boat. Pushing the middle seat back on it sliders so they could access the bottom of the boat more readily, she spread the blanket out on the wood and knelt on the hull. 

“I don’t think I’ve laid down in this boat since you interrupted my nap,” she laughed, after a moment of thought. 

“The night we met?” he laughed too, although less enthusiastically. “I’m sorry about that,” recalling the handful of water he had scooped directly onto her face. It had been a childish prank, something he’d come to regret since he had known her. 

“Oh, don’t even think about it now,” she reassured him. “I was the one trespassing, anyways. You can come down, by the way. I think you should get comfortable first and I’ll join you once you’re situated.”

Tentatively, he knelt in the boat beside her, leaning back on his palms and inching into a horizontal position. She stifled a laugh at his overt caution. The boat rocked erratically despite his best efforts—he was still getting used to moving above water. Laying down came with its own challenges due to the heightened effect of weight up here. Once he was finally stretched out on his back, she lowered herself onto the hull beside him. 

He slid one arm around her so she could rest her head on his shoulder. She wondered if he could feel her own rapid heartbeat now, where his hand rested against her back. The shallow V-shape in the bottom of the boat pushed their sides further together than the flat beach would have, and she was secretly grateful for it.

“It’s a good thing I didn’t wear armor tonight,” he said. “This would be a lot less comfortable if I had.” 

“Are you sure you didn’t plan this?” she teased. 

“Oh right, I forgot to tell you, (Y/N,) but I’m prince of the rain as well as the sea. I guess you’ve found me out!” he smiled to himself, shifting a little sideways so he could look at her. Her eyes were already slowly tracing patterns in the stars, but she was smiling too. 

Occasionally, she broke the silence to point out a constellation that she recognized, and he listened readily to the names which the Surfacers had given to the stars. Farther back than human memory stretched, before Atlantis sank, the names of the stars had belonged just as much to the Atlanteans as they had to the Surfacers. Below the depths, his people had forgotten the names of the old things which had drifted away, including the stars. But here, at long last, the names of the stars could be shared again.


	27. Variables

A few days had passed without him. The wedding invitation peered at her from its spot on the kitchen counter, a constant reminder that more days would pass without him later on. She was boiling pasta for dinner, and she drew the wooden spoon through the water mechanically, a diversion for her body while her thoughts ran loose. 

She knew that she would be arriving to the wedding without a date. Guilt welled up inside of her; she knew she should just be happy for her mother. The date situation could not be helped. She felt like she was run dry of empathy, despite having no good excuse; things were going well with Orm, or at least as well as they could. She’d always had difficulty setting aside discouragement, even when it came from circumstances outside of her control. Thinking about the tangible good had always helped a little, so she turned her thoughts away from the wedding for now.

His words of encouragement still lingered in the back of her mind all these nights later. Her breath still faltered in the back of her throat when she considered his faith in her, and his disappointment that he had underestimated herself. His show of support had been unexpected. It was not that she was suspicious of him; rather, she hadn’t expected so much warmth and confidence in return for her vulnerability. It had been a pleasant surprise.

Tonight, the memory warmed her in his stead, as she awaited their next meeting. However, it was accompanied by the same unease which had prompted her to distance herself from biology in the first place. Rationally, she knew that he had been truthful with her in the past, that he had no reason to lie to her. At least, not about something like this. Despite withholding some information about himself and his kingdom, he had never offered dishonest commentary on her own affairs. In her feelings, though, it was difficult to embrace his confidence—let alone apply it to herself. 

He acted like he was already the king. She admired him for his self-assuredness, which was something she had only in short supply. This aspect of him was something she could aspire to, and something that genuinely spurred her towards becoming a better person. But on the same token, Orm would be a good king, and the misfortune was that he knew it—he was _sure_ of it. She wondered if he could truly empathize with her rampant self-doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this update is very short (and also two days late,) and I apologize. I wanted to give you guys something this week though, so here's what Ive got. I'm hoping for a longer and better chapter on the next upload date!


	28. Contours

It was the edge of nighttime, and as she approached the dock she began to realize that her commute to the sea had begun to feel more natural than the commute to work. She waved to Theo, as usual, who was always in the process of closing the boat shack whenever she arrived. He had not yet confronted her about the sudden increase in nocturnal sailing, so every short exchange was still charged with the potential that someone might finally question her recent behavior. 

Jess had made a few pointed remarks about how she “never saw (Y/N) anymore,” but the good-natured lilt in her voice gave away her intuitions. Jess always had a way of figuring out when people had gotten into relationships, but rarely asked for details or justifications; she was satisfied enough with her ability to read others. (Y/N) was almost certain that Jess had ascertained Orm’s identity in a deflected sort of way: she had given him vague identities before, during conversations with Jess, as a way to vent her frustrations or ask for advice from behind a smokescreen. As for the whole truth, it was unlikely Jess would ever deduce the full picture. 

At the end of the dock, in her boat, something white caught her eye in the dark. She crouched on the planks of the pier to see a note in her boat, held down by a chunk of pale rock the size of her fist. On the note was drawn, in deliberate and controlled strokes, an aerial map of the coastline heading north from where she was. Just past the bay where she stood at the dock, there was the indication of a rocky outcropping. Past that, she could see their semicircle cove drawn in a small arc—the one at the foot of the cliff where her house was—and then the coastline evened to a straight line for some distance. Past that was another, slightly smaller semicircle, the indication of a second cove. There was an arrow drawn smoothly from the dock, around the outcropping and directly towards the second cove. She climbed into the boat and set the rock aside, holding up the map. The ink glimmered in the light of the low-hanging moon, almost glowing back at her with an otherworldly iridescence.

She looked back towards the boat shack, but Theo had already gone. She knew who had drawn the map, but wondered how he had managed to sneak it past the old man. With a pull on the cord of the boat’s old engine, she was off.

As she skimmed the surface, her path forming the curve of some great invisible circle, she wondered at how quickly she was passing through the dark blue expanse. For a moment, the image of leagues and leagues of empty water directly beneath her sent a shiver through her. She moved, suspended, between the blue depths of the sea and the blue void of the sky. Her grip on the map grew a little firmer. 

Before she knew it, she had left their cove behind. Now, off to her left, the only coastline was great black cliffs which plunged straight into the sea below. She had taken this path only once before.

When she had first bought the boat, she had made it her personal mission to scour the coastline for any points of interest. Towards the south, she could easily sail to the next few coastal villages within a day. She had spent more than a few weekends like that, sometimes with Jess, sometimes alone. To the north, she had found significantly less to do or see. Almost immediately, she found a route to the cove beneath her house. Once she had done that, she took a first and final trip further north to see what was there. For an hour or so, she had sped past the cliffs without paying much attention to them. There was something foreboding in the dark cliffs, which had discouraged her from looking too closely at them. Something about the stark drop between land and sea made her feel like an intruder in a space that was never meant to be explored too thoroughly. She was content visiting the cove or the southerly villages after that, or just drifting a few hundred yards out at sea.

If it were not for the glow emanating from the fold in the cliffs, she would have entirely missed the second cove. Having sped past it at first, she wheeled right towards the ocean and looped back towards the coast, headed straight for the light. As she approached, she could identify multiple glowing dots arranged on the walls of the little cove, set in the dark face of the rock like tiny stars.


	29. Things He Carried

The cove drew nearer now, and she slowed the boat a little. A dark figure on the beach stood up at her approach, partially lit by a lantern at its feet and the faint glow of the little lights behind him. On his head was the outline of a crown—the same crown he always wore. This time, like the last, he wore no armor.

She had made it into the bay, and he waved in greeting. She switched the motor off and paddled closer to shore, where he was already wading out towards her.

“The water’s pretty deep here,” he remarked, standing in the waist-high surf. 

“I can tell,” she replied. “Does it get shallower at the beach?”

“Not by much—there’s a steep dropoff just before the coast.” He stretched his arms towards her, cradle-like. “Allow me,”

“No—you don’t have to do that,” she replied, feeling the heat rush to her face. “I don’t mind the water,” she said. _I weigh too much for this,_ she thought.

“It’s no trouble,” he replied, “but if you’re sure you’d rather wade…I won’t argue.” 

She nodded, and he lowered his arms, lingering near the boat. She dropped her anchor over the other side of the little vessel, and a splash of cold water hit her arm. She shivered. 

“I didn’t think the water would be so cold tonight,” she said, grimacing at the thought of being submerged in it. Orm seemed unaffected—probably accustomed to this temperature. Maybe Atlantis was at such a depth that it was even colder there. 

“I can still carry you if you want,” he offered. After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. 

“Yes, please—” she said, “as long as it’s no trouble.” He laughed. 

“I was the one who offered. You’re fine,” he said. He extended his arms once again and she climbed into them, clumsily, from the boat. With surprising ease, he carried her towards the shore and up the steep slope onto the beach. She was warm against his chest, making him realize how cold the water had been. Lowering to one knee, he deposited her onto the sand, feet-first. He rose again as she regained her footing. 

“Do Atlanteans have super-strength or something?” she laughed. “You’re barely winded, and you just princess-carried a grown adult through the water.” Orm grinned. 

“I can’t tell you that—it’s classified.” She laughed. He lowered to the sand, but she wanted to wander the little cove and investigate the lights on the cliffside. As she approached one of the beacons in the slate-colored wall, she noted a miniature version of Orm’s lantern nestled in a hollow. It was a pinkish color, like the inside of a seashell, and cast a warm glow on her outstretched hand. Running her fingers along the smooth surface, she noted that it was cool to the touch. 

“Did you put these here?” 

“Yes, I had some time while I was waiting for you.” He replied. “Do you like them?” 

“They’re splendid,” she replied. Backing away from the cliffside, she counted a dozen of them encircling the cove walls. A pouch, which appeared to be made from something like leather, lay a few feet away on the sand. _How do they tan leather underwater?_

She turned back to Orm, who had remained seated near his lantern—the lantern he had brought the night he called to her from the cove beneath her house. She moved towards him and knelt on the sand at his side, placing her hand over his where it lay in his lap. He leaned closer. Softly, he brushed his lips against her forehead. 

“So you like the new cove?” he murmured. She nodded, squeezing his hand. 

“It’s nice here. I wouldn’t have even noticed this place if you hadn’t put up the lanterns,” she replied. “and if we were here in the dark, you’d be able to see all the stars in the sky. There’s no light pollution for at least a mile.” 

“If we were here in the dark, I don’t think I’d be looking at the stars,” he responded. She laughed, subconsciously bringing a hand to her face, which was warm to the touch. She knew that he could see her blushing in the warm lantern light, but she could not have known that he was too busy enjoying the sound of her laughter to notice. 

“I don’t think I’d be, either,” she said at length. He smiled. “But, for the moment, we are here in the light. So tell me how you’ve been,” 

“Nothing ever changes with me,” he sighed. She waited for him to continue before determining whether it was a sigh of despair, or a sigh of relief that he had somewhere to vent. “My father has demanded I take a more active role in court politics. He’s making plans for a war we won’t fight yet, a war we can’t possibly fight right now, and he has requested I spend time formulating strategies. I won’t bore you with the details—I’m not at liberty to share them anyways—but I will say this. I don’t understand why he needs to involve other people in his strategies at such an early stage.” She nodded. 

“Is he overestimating the kingdom’s capability to wage this war, or does he know you can’t fight it yet?” 

“Oh, he knows full well that we aren’t equipped for this yet. He intends for _me_ to carry out the battle, long after the bastard himself is dead. And I already know how I would do it, so this is a waste of my time.” 

“That would be…beyond annoying,” she interjected. He nodded as he continued. 

“He intends to take certain resources purely by force. Including entire armies. But I say, what’s the use of exhausting a military through defeat and then immediately demanding that it fight for you? These things are better done through diplomacy or manipulation.” He paused for a moment. “Manipulation being the only realistic tactic, between the two.” She frowned at this, and he, noticing the change in demeanor, added: “—in this specific situation, of course.” 

“I would hope for diplomacy,” she hesitated for a moment. “or at least, I would try that first.” 

“I need it to work on the first try. Why take a risk when I already know which method will work?” 

“Maybe the political landscape will change by the time you become king." 

“Unlikely. You don’t know how things work down there.” For what felt like the thousandth time, she was again reminded that she was out of her depth. 

“I don’t appreciate being brow-beaten every time I venture an opinion. I’m well aware that I don’t know specifics about your life, or royal life, or life under the sea. You don’t have to tell me.” Without either of them noticing, as she spoke, she withdrew her hand from his. 

“If you already know, then why do you keep making assumptions anyways?” he huffed. She crossed her arms. 

“I’m just trying to help.” 

The pair sat quietly on the sand for a few moments, each withdrawn from the other. Her face was burning again, but out of anger this time. He was first to speak. 

“(Y/N)…” he paused, as though he wasn’t sure what to say next. “I don’t resent your ideas. I don’t like rejecting them. And I know I’m not kind about it, but that’s not how I was raised.” 

“I guess I thought that princes were supposed to be courteous all the time,” she responded. “Or is that just another fairy tale?” 

“It’s not how I learned. Maybe up here things are different.” He thought for a moment longer about her statement, and stifled a laugh. “You should have known I wasn’t a particularly courteous man the day we met.” 

“It was painfully obvious,” she replied, still icy. 

“I regret it. I truly do.” He tried again, striking a more apologetic tone. Her arms, which were still crossed and held tight against her body, loosened a bit. “I regret being dismissive of you. I think sometimes you bring up an idea that’s better than one of mine, and I don’t know how to handle that.” He fought the urge to voice the thought, _just not this time._ She nodded slightly. 

“I guess I could afford to just listen to you without offering commentary on everything, too,” she conceded. Her arms were still crossed, but at least she could make eye contact with him again. 

“No, you’re fine. If I wanted a silent, passive audience, I would stay at home.” He placed his hand on her knee, relieved that she didn’t recoil at the contact. “I know you only disagreed with me because you were concerned.” 

“I was. You were sounding a bit…” 

“…like a tyrant?” he finished the thought for her. She nodded. “My intentions are…generous, compared to those of my father. Compared to the way things are done in the seven kingdoms. I have the best interest of the whole ocean at heart, and I seek unity. I’m willing to bend the truth if it will save lives.” 

_When he puts it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad,_ she thought. And he had let a piece of information slip—a nearly meaningless piece of information, given that she had no idea who the seven kingdoms were, but perhaps it had been given intentionally. He was always so controlled about the information he supplied to her; was this an honest mistake, or a cloaked token of trust? 

“I don’t know if I fully agree…but I know there’s never really a perfect option when it comes to these things. So I hope that whatever you choose, it’s the best possible option at the time.” His hand had remained on her knee, but she didn’t feel quite at liberty to take it in hers again. “I have faith that you’ll know what to do.” She concluded. 

“I have no option but to know what to do,” he mused, and she watched him stretch his shoulders backwards slightly, as if loosening tight muscles. She felt bad at how tense he seemed whenever there was even a sign of conflict—in a way it had felt unfair to get upset at him, even if it was justified. 

“Do you ever think that you’d run away if it meant you could be something different?” she asked without thinking. “I mean, if you didn’t have to be king, what would you be?” 

“I don’t think about it.” He watched her lips begin to purse into the question— _why not_ —and he interrupted prematurely: “I don’t really have that luxury.” 

“Oh…I guess you’re right. Being the only heir, and all,” 

“I know what my purpose as king will be. That’s more than some people can say for themselves,” he said. “This is a burden worth shouldering.” 

“I hope so, for your sake.” She said. “I hope you never have to shoulder it alone.” Finally, she placed her hand on top of his, back where it had been. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being twice the average chapter length, so please enjoy the extra content! Hope you are all doing well.


	30. Twin

Orm was drifting through the doors of the royal stables, where light filtered in through the green glass roof. He approached his sea dragon’s stall. Its name was etched into a silver plaque hanging above the stall: Dorci. Orm gestured for a servant to fetch his saddle. As the servant placed the saddle over the creature’s back, Orm patted its snout. Its dark scales reflected a pearlescent sea-green in the stable light. It yawned, flashing two long rows of black fangs as leathery lids closed over pearl-white eyes. As Orm drifted towards its back and lowered himself into the saddle, it made a small and hollow clicking sound in the back of its throat. With a gentle tap to its side, he prompted the creature to glide out into the courtyard. 

For once, Orm was leaving the palace grounds during the daytime—but he felt more dread than excitement. Orvax had requested his presence for a ride. This was a rare occasion, and Orm feared some displeasure on his father’s part. Deeper than his fear of disappointment, the young man stifled his even more intense fear of exposure. If Orvax had any suspicion of the truth, Orm knew that he would stop at nothing to ferret it out. So he rose slowly, reluctantly, towards the dark silhouette of his father above. He knew he was going to be late, and still could not bring himself to greater haste.

“You’re late. Is that old bag getting too tired to swim properly?” Orvax sneered as Orm approached, gesturing to the sea dragon with a sharp flick of his wrist. 

Orvax himself was seated on a gigantic white shark, its sides traced with innumerable scars and gashes, marbled with little pink ravines. The behemoth was missing an eye, and several teeth, and had lived just as long as its tyrant master. Orm’s skin crawled if he looked at it for too long. The beast lacked even a name; there was no need to distinguish it. It was the only steed Orvax had ever used, and it was as unmistakably ghoulish as the marred soul of its keeper. But the monster was not the current topic of conversation.

“No, Your Highness, Dorci is in good health. The delay was my own fault.” His fathers sunken eyes blazed in response, glowing amber in the typical Atlantean fashion for just a moment. Orm winced. He had been instructed never to accept the burden of fault, never to put himself in a situation where he might have to, and yet…something had troubled him in Orvax’ accusatory nature towards his sea dragon. Something had prompted him to shield the creature from criticism it had not deserved, even at the expense of his own image—the fragile image that Orvax dangled before him at all times. Dorci had never shown a trace of stubbornness; the creature could even be trusted to drift on her own during his nocturnal visits to shore. He knew she would always return to him. She had been trained well.

While Orm had been stewing over his thoughts, his father led them in a wide arc around the palace grounds. Attendants and servants hustled about the courtyards below them, as small as Orm’s thumb when viewed from such a height. He had been this high many times, when ascending to approach the surface, but had never dared to rise within city limits—not in a place where he could be so easily detected. The white spires pointed up towards him like daggers. 

“You have been confined to the palace for too long,” Orvax’s voice was no more than a rumble in the ambient rush of the ocean. “Your training here is rapidly approaching its limit. I am exploring possibilities for you to expand your horizons somewhat.” 

“Thank you, father,” Orm responded, after catching his breath for a moment—was he hearing this correctly? It was hard to imagine Orvax willingly loosening his grip on Orms’ agency, even for the future good of the kingdom. Despite his deep curiosity, he knew better than to voice his curiosity. He knew better than to question the tyrant. 

“You do well to thank me. If you do as I say, this will aid your ascent to Oceanmaster,” Orvax continued. 

“Yes, father.” Immeasurable relief had flooded through him. Orvax was serious—not only was he still unaware of his son’s secret wanderings, but he was ready to allot some extra freedoms. The reality that this travel would come with new responsibility was not lost on Orm, but this was to be expected. His burdens would only increase as he rose to power. He had been trained for this. 

“I’m sure you desire more information. You’ve always wanted details,” Orvax continued. “but I am testing your patience. I will tell you more as I find more suitable tasks for you. For now, expect new challenges. Prepare yourself accordingly.”

The pair had made its way back towards the palace, and Orvax led them back to the stable. As he dismounted from his white shark, he bid Orm a cold farewell and disappeared back into the nearest portico. Orm brought Dorci back to her stall, scooping some extra feed into her trough before he left. Guilt struck him for overworking her so much lately. She needed the night to rest, but he needed tonight to go back to shore. His time with (Y/N) now felt even more jeopardized, but without any details of where Orvax would be sending him, or when, all he could do was spend more time with her in the present.


	31. Vision

The hotel was encased in drywall now, close to completion, and the lights at night from the construction site were no longer shining at all hours. Apparently they had caught up to schedule. The lack of intrusive spotlights no longer bothered (Y/N), although it felt like a hollow victory; it meant they no longer needed to rush to completion. It meant the tourist droves would be here soon, with their noise and fuss. Still, it felt a little quieter walking down to the beach in the dark that night; a little safer, a little more private. She felt less likely to be noticed. 

In the bay, she had paddled out some distance before she realized that he might already be in one of the coves—or he might not be here yet at all. She sighed. If there were even some way to communicate ahead of time, some of the stress might be alleviated. She settled on making a course for the cove nearest to her house, and then remaining out in the sea so she could have a wider view of the area. As she approached, she scanned the coastline, unable to see any figures on the beach. He hadn't arrived yet.

She knew waiting wouldn’t be so bad tonight. The chill had left the air ages ago, and it was warm out these days. She leaned over the side of the boat and stretched her hand down towards the water, wondering if the air hovering just above it would be cool. As she lowered her hand, the sight of something glowing just beneath distracted her from her experiment—he had arrived. 

She withdrew from the side of the boat and sat up straight, waiting for him to surface somewhere ahead of her. As the seconds ticked by, she began to wonder why he hadn’t appeared—and then she heard the gentle clearing of a throat behind her. She turned slowly, so as not to throw the boat off-balance. Orm grinned at her in the moonlight.

“Back to your old tricks, I see?” she smiled in return.

“You didn’t see me on the coastline so I thought I’d test your perception,” he replied, gesturing to the cove.

“Oh—it’s so dark over there, I suppose I didn’t see you.” She noted that he had come with smooth, dark armor this time, which wrapped him in thin plates of metal. “You look extra-stealthy tonight,” she said.

“But not handsome?” he pouted, feigning insult.

“You’re always handsome,” she said softly. 

“You flatter me,” his voice had picked up a deeper, sweeter tone. “Shall we go to the cove?” 

She nodded, reaching for the motor-pull on her boat. Before she could grasp the little plastic handle, he stopped her.

“Wait, can you lower your anchor here?” 

“Yes, why?” she withdrew from the motor pull.

“Well…would you like to ride a sea dragon?” he eased the creature closer to the starboard side, and a short burst of brilliant blue light flashed down its flank. She tossed the anchor overboard.

“Is that a trick question?” (Y/N) rose to her feet, ready to join him on the back of the beast, but unsure of how to proceed. Her hesitance must have been visible.

“You can stand on her back—it won’t harm her. Just step over,” he offered, turning so he could offer her his hand in support. She took it, and stepped over gingerly. Through the thin soles of her shoes, she could feel the creature shift underneath her, but it held itself steady. Slowly, she released her grip on Orm’s hand, and kneeled on its back. Its scales felt like silk against her bare legs, and she was thankful she had opted for shorts tonight—less wet clothing to cling to her when they got to shore. She was surprised at the warmth of its body. She finally dropped her legs over its flanks, into the water, and could feel the heaving motion of its breath under her. It was not unlike a horse—although she had never ridden bareback, (Y/N) had spent a summer horseback riding as a child, at some far-off summer camp, the name of which she had forgotten. 

“What’s her name?” she breathed, wrapping one arm around Orm’s waist and running the other across the creature’s back.

“Dorci,” he replied. She wrapped her other arm around his waist, and felt him lean slightly to the left as he tapped Dorci’s side. The creature moved forward, after a moment of hesitation. “She’s never carried anyone else,” he said. “I think she’s trying to figure you out.”

“Hopefully she likes me,” (Y/N) replied. She could bury her face in his neck if she wanted to; she hadn’t been this close to him in awhile. She could feel his shallow breathing between her arms, and hoped it meant he was as nervous as she was. 

“I don’t see why she wouldn’t,” he said. She couldn’t see his face, but she could tell by the pleasant lilt in his voice that he was probably smiling. He tapped Dorci’s side once again, and she gained speed towards the cove. (Y/N) was tempted to reach out and skim her fingers through the water, but knew that she could do that from her own boat—best to hold on to Orm while he was around. 

“Do you want to dive under for a moment?” he asked as they had closed half the distance to the cove.

“I’d love to,” she replied, after a moment’s thought. 

“Okay. Tap my shoulder if you need to surface for air,” he replied, removing one hand from the reigns to guide her hand to his shoulder. Somehow, wordlessly, he had already communicated to the sea dragon to dive. They were descending.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and exhaled one puff of air as the waterline reached her nostrils, hoping it would be enough to keep the water out of her nose, but not enough to waste her breath. _So much for keeping my clothes dry,_ she thought. As the water reached her eyes, she fought the urge to close them. The salt stung, and she could feel her eyes tearing up—as if more saltwater would solve the problem. Beneath the surface, there was little visibility, but she could see the moonlight glint on Orm’s dark grey armor even down here. It highlighted the graceful curve of his shoulders. Dorci sent another wave of blue light along her back, as if she knew her second passenger wouldn’t be able to see a thing underwater. The light barely illuminated the next few feet. Despite the dark, (Y/N) could tell they were traveling at a much faster rate now. She had held her breath for several seconds, but the pressure was building up in her chest. As she began to exhale, she tapped Orm’s shoulder, knowing she should allow for some time before they could completely surface.

They breached the surface, and she filled her lungs again, wiping the saltwater away from her eyes. Remarkably, they had already reached the cove. They were a few feet from the shallow shelf of land which extended from the beach.

“I was about to surface anyways,” he laughed. “Shame there weren’t many fish down there. I guess my dragon scared them all away,” he mused.

“I wouldn’t have been able to see them, even if they were there.” She replied. “How can you see when it’s so dark?”

“I can show you,” he said, running his hand back through his hair, removing stray strands of it from his forehead. She realized that for the first time since they had met, he was not wearing a crown. “Will you go for a quick swim with me?” He had already swung one leg over Dorci’s back. He slipped gracefully into the sea, then tread water, waiting for her response.

“Just a quick one—I can’t hold my breath for very long,” she conceded, swinging her own leg over Dorci’s back the way she had seen Orm do it moments before. Carefully, she lowered herself into the sea, hoping it wasn’t a far drop below her. As she tread water, Orm offered her his hand. With another deep breath, she grasped it and they dipped below the surface once again. 

The saltwater sting was less intense this time, but still made her eyes ache. As they lowered, she could make out Orm’s face in the moonlight—and something else; his eyes were luminous in the dark. They were still the same steel-blue as usual, but filled with a vibrant light like the glowing scales on Dorci’s back. Surprised, she struggled against the impulse to inhale. His expression was imperceptible to (Y/N), but Orm smiled, able to read the shock clearly on her face. And then, to her further surprise, he spoke:

“All Atlanteans have this ability; we developed it over time. Our eyes can adjust to the dark of the sea the same way yours adjust to nighttime,” he said. The water added reverberation to his deep voice, making it feel like he was speaking to her from all sides at once. Giving her hand a squeeze, he led her back upwards, and they surfaced once again.

“That’s amazing, Orm,” she gasped, after regaining her breath. 

“Thanks,” he bowed his head slightly, for just a moment. Locks of his short hair fell across his forehead. He released her hand so she could tread water again. “We can head to the beach now, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” she replied. The two swam, side-by-side, towards the cove. She noted that he hadn’t dove below the surface, although she was sure that would have felt more natural to him. Instead, he swam with his head above water, occasionally glancing towards her to ensure he wasn’t outpacing her. As they reached the shallows, the two rose from the water to their feet. As they made their way through the receding water, she slipped her hand back into his. 

“You looked beautiful underwater,” he said softly, leaning close to her ear to deliver the message. 

“So did you,” she replied. “I’ve always liked your eyes. I like them even more now,” she replied. Capitalizing on his nearness, she tiptoed to brush a kiss on his cheek. Elation bought him to a halt in the ankle-deep water, and he turned towards her, bringing a hand to her face. Gently, he leaned forward to kiss her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry for the late upload again. Part of the reason this chapter took so long is because I went to see Midway instead of writing--but Patrick Wilson is so brilliant in the film, I have no regrets)


	32. Shared Troubles

Orm was first to pull away from the kiss, though reluctantly.

“I’m sure you’d like to dry yourself off,” he offered. “I got a bit carried away; I should’ve waited until we were on the beach,”

“It’s fine,” she deflected his concerns with a smile. “You’re always out of your element when you spend time with me—quite literally. I’m happy to stand in some water if it means I can approach you on your own terms for once.” He blinked in surprise, expression softening at her words. “Besides,” she continued, “my clothes aren’t going to dry instantly, and it’s a warm night anyways. I’ll cope.” After a moment, he returned her smile. 

“I wish more people were like you,” he said. Reaching for her hand again, they resumed their walk towards the beach. She could see bits and pieces of dark twigs sticking out of the sand, including a few half-buried tumbleweeds, bleached white and barely standing out against the pale sand.

“We haven’t been here since the storm,” she thought aloud. “It left quite the mess,”

“This doesn’t look like a mess to me,” he replied. “The sea will break all of this down. Other messes aren’t so conveniently dealt with.” His voice had taken on a grave tone, but not a tone of hostility as much as one of worry. 

“You’re right,” she squeezed his hand in reassurance. “But you don’t have to think about that right now if you don’t want to. You can’t afford to worry all the time.”

“There’s something else that’s worrying me, anyways,” he sighed, pushing a few twigs aside with his foot so he could sit on the sand. Once there, he plucked a few remaining twigs away so she could sit by his side. “I had a chat with my father today.”

“Oh…how did that go?” she ventured, lowering to her spot beside him. The sand was already clinging to her legs, to her clothing; she fidgeted until she could sit comfortably, waiting for him to respond.

“It wasn’t all that bad, shockingly,” he leaned forward and drew knees to his chest, watching at the sea as he spoke. “He wants me to expand my horizons,” Orm continued. “He wants me to start venturing out from Atlantis. But in what manner, and when, and for how long, are all things I don’t know. Things he refuses to tell me. He seemed insistent that he has no concrete plans for me yet, but I know him better than that.”

“That sounds like an exhausting place to be.” (Y/N) extended a hand cautiously to rest on his shoulder. When he didn’t flinch at her contact, she knew she hadn’t crossed any lines. 

“It is. Especially because it means I won’t get to see you. I don’t even have a good way to determine when it will happen, or warn you ahead of time. And I worry sometimes, (Y/N), that he knows what we’re doing here. I wonder if he’s sending me away for a different purpose than the one he’s divulged,” Orm’s voice trembled near the end of his hastening speech, and he raised a hand to his own shoulder so he could clasp her supporting hand. “I know nobody has seen me yet, because I wouldn’t be here with you if they had. But I worry nonetheless.” His voice had lowered to a resigned mumble.

She sat in silence, unable to offer any meaningful comfort. The only thought in her mind was of the wedding, which she knew had been coming, which was a matter of weeks away, which she had still failed to tell him about. And there he was, agonizing over his inability to predict when he would see her again. There had been no reason to keep the information from him—no reason besides her reluctance to talk about it. How could she tell him now?

“I don’t want you to worry on my account,” were the words she finally offered. “When the time comes, just look after yourself until you can come home. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be able to breathe easier when there’s some distance between the two of you. I’ll miss you for however long you’re gone, but I’ll always be here when you come back.” 

“Do you promise?” he broke his gaze from the sea to look into her eyes. She nodded.

“I promise.” Before she could even think, she had moved her hand from his shoulder to caress the side of his face. “I promise you, I’ll be here.”

“I need one other assurance.” He pressed his lips together for a moment before continuing, in thought. “I need you to stay away from the sea while I’m gone.” Her heart sunk.

“Orm, why?”

“Because if there’s even a _possibility_ that they know about you, you are in danger when I’m not here. Surely you understand how easy it would be for them to send me away for a few days, and when I return, for you to have vanished…” She shook her head, eyes widening.

“They couldn’t…”

“They could. It wouldn’t be the first time the palace guard has been sent for a surfacer,” he replied. Her expression darkened, but she nodded.

“Alright, but we need a way to communicate.” She glanced up the cliff face towards the neighborhood above. “I can see this cove from my house, so you could bring a lantern whenever you come see me…?”

“That could work,” he said. “It’ll work for now.” He had calmed a bit. Talking practical solutions had pulled him out of his despondence. 

“I didn’t want to say this, but maybe it’ll help you feel a little better. I’ve been putting it off for a while, but in this context, it seems like this might actually be good news—” she had begun speaking in a split second of courage, but his intent gaze somewhat derailed her train of thought. “Well, not good news, but—it might work out for us—I have to leave town for several days. It won’t be for a few more weeks. But my mother is getting married, and she’s far inland from here.”

“Help me understand where you’re going with this,” he replied, after a moment. 

“I mean that maybe the timing will work out for us. Maybe, when your father sends you out to wherever he’s sending you, I’ll be leaving town for the wedding at the same time. Then you won’t even have to worry about me.” 

“We can hope,” he replied, although no emotion was behind the response. Despite his lack of enthusiasm, he hadn’t been visibly dismayed by the revelation, so she felt more at ease. With a sigh, she rested her head against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her waist. They sat for a little longer, speaking very little, until Orm shepherded her back to the boat. Although it was later than usual when she got home that night, she had stopped feeling tired a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Thanksgiving to readers in the USA, and happy SUPER belated Thanksgiving to readers in Canada :)


	33. Insomniacs

Morning shifts at the café had taken on a frantic sort of novelty in the past months. As the night meetings went on, (Y/N) had grown accustomed to less hours of sleep, although the adaptation had not come without its challenges. The first hour or so of her shift, no matter how busy the little restaurant got—(and in the mornings, it was never very busy)—felt like a constant dinner rush. Her attention span had been wearing away, and on multiple occasions she had needed to ask customers to repeat simple orders once or twice before she could write the whole thing down. Today was an extreme case. 

“You gotta stop watching TV all night, (Y/N)” Jess tapped her on the shoulder, in an effort to move past in the tight hallway near the kitchen. “Or whatever it is that you do these days.”

“It’s fine,” (Y/N) moved a step out of the way moments later than was necessary. Jess had already passed her.

“It’s definitely not,” Jess replied, plucking a new ballpoint pen out of the pencil cup that always sat on top of the fire extinguisher cabinet. Hers had run dry after months of faithful service. “I haven’t even seen you outside of work in weeks. What are you doing? I mean for real?”

“A few things,” (Y/N) sighed. She had not explained to Jess yet that she was romantically involved with what was essentially the prince of the mermen. These things didn’t quite fit into the spectrum of a casual conversation. “I mean, I’ve been visiting that guy I told you about a little while ago,” she settled on a half-truth. 

“The one you got into an argument with?” Jess’ voice grew stern for a moment, but she looked more cautious than anything. 

“We settled that a long time ago; he admitted he got too emotional about it.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Jess motioned for her to step aside again so she could return to taking orders. “I’d like to meet this guy,” she called over her shoulder, on the way back into the dining room. “Soon.”

(Y/N) nodded to herself. Jess wasn’t usually like this, but admittedly the whole setup sounded suspicious. She couldn’t blame a friend for caring. Besides, the daily exhaustion had become excessive. Every night, for nearly a week, she had been meeting him—they didn’t know when they’d lose the chance to see each other so regularly.

\--

Orm had accidentally slept through breakfast—again. His every move was slow and uncertain at trident practice, and his trainers unforgiving. More upsetting than his lacking performance now was the knowledge that he had mastered this talent long ago, and that the regular practice was just to maintain it. He knew he couldn’t sustain this lifestyle for much longer. 

The session was prolonged by a stern lecture from his sparring opponent, who had trained him for years, and insisted that Orm was capable of so much more.

“You’ve been on a slow decline,” he had said. “If you don’t shape up now, you’ll never succeed.”

\--

She had been reading to him from a book of poems for the past two nights, but tonight, the letters swam before her eyes and made it impossible for her to concentrate as soon as she opened the book. Shutting the book again with a snap, she raised a hand to her forehead. Orm, who had been resting his head in her lap, flinched unnecessarily as she set the book to the side. 

“What’s up?” her question was delayed a half-second longer than seemed natural.

“I just thought it was going to land on my face,” he replied. “We can’t keep this up.” 

“I agree,” she sighed, laying back on the sand. “I could honestly go to sleep right here.”

“Maybe we should both go home for tonight, then. And cut down meetings a bit?”

“I don’t want to waste our time, though,” she protested. “I’m leaving soon, and then who knows what’ll happen?”

“Nobody,” he conceded, “but it could be months before I’m shipped out. So we should take care of ourselves for now.” Rubbing a sore spot on his arm where he had been struck at weapons practice that day, he added, “I can’t afford to keep this up much longer.”

“I know that I can’t either. I guess I just assumed I could rest while I’m away.”

“You should try to enjoy the wedding, at least.” Unable to gauge her reaction to the comment, he continued. “Or, if not the wedding itself, at least you can see your mother.” 

“I appreciate your perspective, Orm.” She replied. She hadn’t brought up the wedding since she had told him she was leaving, as the topic had already proved itself a source of conflict. It had been unexpected for him to bring it up of his own accord, and even to offer encouragement in the process. “I think you’re right. I’ll try to treasure it,” she yawned and stretched her arms out on the sand above her. 

“For now we should go home, I guess,” he drawled. 

“Will you get there alright? You sound awfully tired.”

“I’ll be fine. After all, Dorci knows the way if I get too tired to navigate.”

“I don’t like that,” (Y/N) made no attempt to hide the edge of unease in her voice. “I mean, I don’t want you to fall off,”

“I wont,” he waved away her worries absentmindedly, rising to his feet and swaying to the side slightly. She jumped to join him, staggering as well before finding her footing. 

“Please be careful,” she murmured, drawing near. She tiptoed to brush some sand off of his face and kissed him on the cheek.

“I will,” he replied, pulling her in for a hug and planting a kiss on the top of her head. She pulled away before she could linger too long, knowing that she wouldn’t want to let go if she stayed a moment longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! I'm in Japan right now and time zones are kinda wonky :0


	34. Recollections

Nighttime brought an imposing visage to the seaside cliffs along the coast. During daylight hours, the faces of these promontories were marked with distinguished outcroppings and even the odd cave every few miles, but nighttime rendered the cliffs featureless. In such a rural part of the coast, the darkness of the earth stood out against the less-intense darkness of the sky; it created a solid black band between the starry heavens and the moonlit, twinkling ocean. The impossibility of navigating such a cliffside at night could not be understated. 

Perhaps night sailors might fool themselves into thinking there was no land in front of them at all, hallucinating extensions of the stars down onto the land. But there were no major sailing routes in this part of the country. The only lighthouses that had serviced the cliffs in previous years were no longer in operation, having reached futility. However, if someone had been out on the sea that night, they might have seen the handful of lights in the far cove and thought that perhaps something was happening there. If this observer had drawn closer to investigate, she might have caught a glimpse of two figures on the sand, huddled towards one another, leaning over another fist-sized lantern on the sand. If the couple were fortunate, this observer would leave quietly, understanding that their presence was unnecessary. In fact, the couple was lucky enough that no observers had followed either of them to the cove, and that no potential observers were out on the sea that night. They could be left in peace.

At their last meeting, a few nights ago, (Y/N) had asked if they might visit the far cove on her last night before leaving town. Orm had no reason to object. He'd left the tiny lanterns there since their first visit to the cove, so it would be easy to find the place again. She arrived several minutes before him tonight, and marveled at the fact that the lanterns were still glowing as brightly as ever. When he arrived, after greeting him with an embrace, she asked how they were still operating.

“These are actually groups of living organisms,” he replied. “Some kind of bioluminescent colony. They can survive above water, although they don’t thrive as well here. In a few months they’ll have burned out. But as long as they’re alive, they’ll glow.”

“How are they sustaining themselves?” she asked, immediately rushing to the rock face to inspect one more closely. 

“They probably absorb minerals in the rock face, or from the spray of the sea,” his tone lilted upwards at the end, sounding more like a proposed idea than a definite answer. She picked one up and turned it about in her hands. The little lanterns were spherical, but not perfectly spherical, and had the appearance of a coral fan rolled into a ball. Amorphous holes in the shell-like structure seemed random in size and shape, which had been less noticeable at a casual viewing distance. She thought she could distinguish tiny nodes making up the creature, although the glow that emanated from its surface made it hard to look at the surface in any level of detail. It had become clear that these were not the same thing as Orm’s lantern: while Orm’s lantern glowed from within and cast light through its holes, like a surface lantern, these living lanterns emanated light from their entire bodies.

“This makes absolutely no sense,” she mused, laughing to herself. 

“You could probably make more sense of it than I could,” he replied. “You never ran across a creature like this when you were studying…”

“…biology?” she found the word he had failed to recall, and broke her gaze from the object long enough to see his nod in confirmation. “Never.” she shook her head, placing it back on the rock shelf. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“One of Atlantis’ well-kept secrets, then,” he said. “I’ll try to get more information about them for you, if you’d like—” it was her turn to nod in confirmation, “—and I’ll tell you about them when you come back.” With a pang, he realized that he would have more than a week to hunt down information before they saw one another again. Before he could drift further into the sad realization, she had reappeared at his side to kiss his cheek.

“I would very much appreciate that,” she smiled at his flustered reaction. He cleared his throat, feeling tempted to lean in and kiss her back, but inexplicably disarmed by the sweet expression on her face.

“So, are the lanterns why you wanted to come back here…?” he ventured, grasping for a conversation topic. 

“I just wanted to see this place again,” she replied, after a moment of thought. “I don’t think I had a reason why—besides that I like it.”

“I’m glad you had a good first impression of it,” he responded. His word choice struck her as being an odd and possibly veiled statement. After a moment’s thought, she decided to probe for more information.

“What was your first impression of this place?” she kept her tone neutral and sat on the sand, patting the space beside her for him to occupy.

“It was…not so good.” He sighed, opting to sit across from her rather than beside her. He nestled his own handheld lantern in the sand so he could watch the light cast on her face while he talked. “I first came here when I was looking for my brother,” he began, and she did her best to hide her immediate concern. 

“I didn’t hate him then,” he continued, and she eased a little. “Not yet. When we all first learned of his existence, the reactions were mixed. Orvax—my father—of course, was enraged. He was devastated; my mother had tarnished not only herself, but also his own honor, in choosing to have the half-breed child. But I was afraid for him.” Orm paused for a moment, unsure how to continue. He had never told this story; he had never needed to. Despite the throne’s most desperate efforts to scrub all memory of this scandal from history, he was acutely aware that many of the ocean-dwellers he had met until this point in life were already well-acquainted with the painful saga.

“I was young at the time, and had heard only frightening accounts of this place. I knew the surface to be a hostile and toxic place, especially towards my kind. And, despite my best attempts to control my emotions, my attachment to my mother…made it hard for me to easily dismiss someone she must have loved. Of course, he was older than me, and a threat to my own power, but I wanted to rescue him from the monsters that were poisoning our ocean.” She had nodded quietly this whole time, encouraging him to continue. He paused for another moment, and she reached across to rest her hand on his. He did not withdraw.

“I felt that he was alone; a total object of hatred. In the days following this discovery, my mother was banished to the trench, and my father was determined to silence any talk of the matter. I begged the only advisor I knew to be reasonable—Vulko—to consider sending a dispatch to rescue my brother. He was indifferent to the idea, immediately demanding my silence. I think he feared Orvax more than he hated my brother. After that, I took matters into my own hands.”

“You looked for him on your own?” 

“Yes, eventually. It took me a long time and several close calls before I could leave the palace without drawing attention. It took even longer to make sense of navigating outside of Atlantis. All this time, I was collecting gossip and secretly digging up old reports made by the captain of the guard at the time of my mother’s disappearance, searching for clues as to where she might have gone. After years, I was finally able to reach the coastline—and I was met with the sight of these cliffs.” His gaze turned towards the imposing rock face for a moment, and she turned to look at the cliffside as well. 

“I can’t imagine that would be very welcoming,” she conceded. “They’ve always kind of given me the creeps.”

“It was nighttime when I arrived, and these giant, imposing monoliths of rock were what greeted me. I was terrified.” He continued. “I thought, _there’s no way I can scale these cliffs. How am I supposed to reach my brother now?_ I thought the whole surface was like this. So I headed in some direction—whether it was north or south, I no longer remember—and I swam inches beneath the surface and peered above the waves every few seconds, searching for any signs of life. When the cliffsides got lower, I felt more comfortable looking at the coast. Eventually, I spotted light far ahead of me. As I approached it, I could make out little structures, and I knew I had reached some sort of settlement. That realization was somehow even more terrifying than the sight of the barren cliffs. I had been out a long time. I decided to leave, and try again the next time I could leave Atlantis.”

“I wonder if it was my town,” (Y/N) mused. 

“If it was your town, I wish I would have known not to fear it. We might have met earlier.”

“You’ve been searching the coast for a long time, then?” 

“At least a year before I met you,” he replied.

“And how long have you hated your brother…?”

“As soon as I drew the courage to actually investigate your people, it became apparent to me that you are not bloodthirsty and powerful monsters, as the rumors of my childhood had led me to believe. Forgive me for saying this, but it became evident that you’re just…wasteful, thoughtless, primitive—”

“—now hold on, Orm,” (Y/N) interrupted. “We’re not all that way,”

“I mean, _you’re_ not. But I realized that my brother was in less danger here than he would be if I brought him to Atlantis. And I realized that he was…one of you, for all intents and purposes.”

“So you decided to hate him because you made _assumptions_ about what he was like?” She huffed, barely able to keep herself from sparking a full-blown argument. She had never expected such shallow conclusions from someone as calculating and observant as him.

“I didn’t want to make those assumptions at first,” he reassured her. “But there was one more thing. I learned something, which has the potential to send an acquaintance of mine to the Trench itself, which I have kept secret from all other living souls until right now.” He paused to swallow, and then resumed. 

“Concerning the advisor I told you I had once trusted, Vulko: I caught him once, leaving the palace moments before myself. I followed him from a distance. Somehow, I was able to evade his notice. As I shadowed him, it became clear that he had gone this way many times before; he had an air of purpose about him. There was also something odd about the situation. He had recently received a new mount as a gift, which was still housed in the stables, while he rode on the back of his old shark. This, I assume, is because the creature already knew the way. That is the only logical explanation I can offer. At length, he reached the surface, and we had appeared in a place I did not recognize. I had been so focused on trailing him at a safe distance that I hadn’t paid attention to the landmarks on the way; I had no idea where we were. But Vulko did. There was a tower on the shore, and a dock emerging from it, and light shining out of the top of it. After a few moments of hesitation, I watched him approach the shoreline and dismount, leaving his shark by the dock. I watched him walk towards the tower, and noticed a huddled structure beside it—some sort of house. I watched him linger at the door, fist raised, as if he were going to knock on it. But he just froze there. He never knocked, but he didn’t need to do that for me to realize that this place must be where my brother lived.” Orm’s eyes had begun to well with emotion, and he blinked back tears.

“Vulko had known where my brother was. For a long time, he had known. And he had never bothered to tell me anything about it. I hid, waiting for him to get back on his shark, and eventually followed him home. In my shock, I barely noticed anything on the way back. I’m certain I nearly followed him too closely, was nearly detected, but somehow I made it back to my room. I didn’t sleep that night. In the following days, I searched for a moment to confront him, but it never came. After a few weeks, I found an opportunity to enter his quarters unnoticed. The old fool had written some things in a personal journal about visiting my brother years ago, and training him to take the throne— _my_ throne—only for my brother to reject his Atlantean lineage. Even then, Vulko had never given up hope that the half-breed might come around.” Orm sighed. “That’s when I knew that I had been betrayed. By both of them.” In the gentle light, she could see his eyes brimming with tears.

“Orm, I’m so sorry.” Placing the lantern off to the side, she moved forward on her knees to embrace him. He collapsed into the hug, pressing his face against her neck, and gripping her tightly.

“You’re not the one who owes me an apology,” he whispered into her neck, voice faltering. His attempts to suppress the tears were beginning to fail. “You don’t even owe me your comfort.”

“You trusted me enough to tell me your story,” she replied, running a hand over the back of his head. “Maybe I don’t owe you any comfort, but I want to give it to you regardless.” 

“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said at length, eventually pulling away from her embrace. 

“Don’t shut me out now that you’ve let me in,” she replied firmly. “That’s how. Keep seeing me after I come back. And come back for me after you’re sent away.”

“I wish you weren’t leaving in the first place.” he sighed, voice deep with emotion.

“Me too,” she said. “But I’m coming back. I’ll see you again,” she spoke gently, coaxing him to have hope. She knew, in the back of her mind, that he was afraid of the same thing as she was—what if he was sent away as soon as she came back? And how long would it take for him to return to her? In an instant, she thought of a way to reassure him. “Listen, I know you’re worried it’ll take longer than you think, but you take risks every time you come here to visit me. I’ll be grateful to have you out of harms way and staying in the palace for a little while. You deserve a break from the stress of sneaking away, Orm. Please try to think of it that way.”

“You’re worth the stress,” he smiled a half-smile. His eyes were tired, but there was only genuine appreciation in his expression.

“I feel like I’m not,” she countered, “but you seem very sure of it. So I won’t argue.” 

It had gotten late, and she needed to bid him goodbye if she was going to wake up in time to catch a ride with Jess to the airport the next morning. They embraced once more and she left him with an extra kiss. Orm remained on the small beach for a long time after that.  
If an observer had been out on the sea late that night, and had noticed the lone prince sitting in the glowing cove, they might have caught a glimpse of the tears he’d worked so hard to hide from those around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra-long chapter for you guys after the unofficial hiatus. Thank you for being patient and waiting for this chapter.
> 
> I based a lot of Orm's backstory on what I've seen from the comics, which admittedly isn't much, but the film didn't delve too deep into it so I'm working with what I can. It's true that, at least in one iteration of the Aquaman story, Orm wanted to go to the surface to rescue his brother from the surfacers. When I read that, I think my heart literally snapped in two. The tragedy! I learned about it from this tumblr post:  
> https://harold-thats-gay.tumblr.com/post/181739088178/we-all-knew-king-orvax-was-a-very-abusive-father 
> 
> I hope the holidays treat you all well. We will see each other again before the new year, as long as I can get the next chapter written on schedule!


	35. Many Happy Returns

The flight cross-country to her mother’s house gave her time to sleep. The previous night had been less than restful, even after returning home. It had been difficult to find any sleep after that conversation. In her rush to comfort him, she had nearly told him that she loved him. 

She hadn’t said it, because it had felt too hasty, and maybe inappropriate for the moment. However, this impulse was something she knew required further introspection. She hadn’t even known him very long. She had never met anyone close enough to truly know him well. However, what she had known of Orm himself was mostly positive. 

He was not perfect by any means, and if he had appeared to be perfect, she could never have trusted him. His gradual willingness to be honest with her in difficult situations was, as she saw it, his greatest strength. But, after learning more about his history, she felt she was no match for his internalized rejection. How would a man like Orm even respond to a declaration of love? With a life like his, she wondered if he could ever trust even the most sincere words of affirmation. Orm struck her as more of an action-minded person, and she could think of no single grand gesture to prove that she admired him. She wanted to be there for him, in general, and she enjoyed the time they spent together. Despite this, she worried that the level of commitment required by genuine love might exist beyond her own capacity. They were in an impossible situation, where neither of them could join the other long-term. What did she even know about running a kingdom? How could she possibly contribute to his destiny? Or, conversely, how could Orm exist outside of Atlantis? Orm would have to reshape his entire life in order to join her on the surface. She had ruled this option out long ago. She was afraid to think about keeping him in a place where he should not be. It was painfully obvious that living in her world would break his spirit. She knew that he could not abandon his own people—especially after hearing that his only sibling had already spurned the throne. And, deep down, she knew she couldn’t afford to get attached to the idea of Orm as a well-adjusted land-dweller. She knew she would never stop wishing for that version of reality if she began considering it. 

These were the thoughts which plagued her tonight, and most other nights. This had not been the very first time she had wanted to tell him she loved him, but it had been the first time she felt so sure about it. Even in light of the new development, her thoughts always circled back to the obvious divide between them. 

-

The future had never been something for Orm to grasp at; he felt that it was something he already held. Prodded towards the throne from all sides, his upbringing had guided him towards his place as the one true heir to Atlantis. Even his half-brother felt far enough away that the disgraceful consequences could not really touch his path: no surfacer could find his way to Atlantis. Despite lingering paranoia, Orm knew that his brother’s decision to abandon the royal half of his lineage was not likely to be swayed. His mother’s treachery had been expunged from the public’s consciousness, to the furthest extent possible, preventing any other objections to his role in leadership. There were no imminent obstacles. Orm had been born with a purpose. The future was a constant.  
Observing the vicious removal of yet another untrustworthy noble in his father’s court today, Orm considered this. Of course, uncertainty had presented itself with (Y/N), but it was a chosen uncertainty. The risks he took for her yielded beneficial results; he was happy, she was happy, and his father’s gaggle of advisors and informants was none the wiser. He felt the pull towards her strongly, and he knew that he wanted (Y/N) for her own merits, and not the surface world or its trappings. What he had seen of her world had failed to impress him so far. In fact, she had shown more enthusiasm towards things he had brought from Atlantis than things she had shared with him of her own. Before his attention was called away from this train of thought, he felt the fleeting wish: if she could exist independently of the surface in his heart, why couldn’t she exist independently of the surface altogether?  
Throughout the day, as always, he was ushered back and forth between courtly meetings and meals and appointments. In the echoing throneroom, sitting at his father’s right hand on the white pedestal, or in the claustrophobic, hidden corridors between conference rooms, thoughts of her followed him. Even if she were a commoner in his city, it would be impossible for him to meet with her now. Even if she were the princess he was all-but-promised to, she would live leagues away, in another kingdom entirely. Of all the misfortunes possible, he still preferred these alternatives. There would be a ball tonight, and he would be expected to attend. He recalled her wonder at the concept of an underwater dance; he wondered how much entertainment a dance on land even had to offer her. If surfacer weddings were anything like Atlantean weddings, she would perhaps be participating in some sort of dance later tonight. Somehow, knowing that they would be doing the same thing at the same time did not comfort him, but only punctuated the distance between them. 

-

Usually, staying in her childhood home felt somewhat claustrophobic. It was like taking a forced step backwards in life, trapped in the past. This time, it felt more like visiting another world. Over the years, the place had faced minimal change, but now the house was transformed into a warehouse for wedding trappings. Boxes of decorations took up space in the garage, and the fridge was sparse in anticipation for reception leftovers. Family members had begun to occupy any available rooms. 

(Y/N) had met her mother at the airport a day after everyone else had shown up, but her old room had still been set aside for her. She was grateful for the privacy once she had arrived at the old house; relatives came pouring out of the place to help her with her luggage and ask for life updates. Aside from Orm, who she would mention under no conditions, she was without any news to report. On the way from the car to the house, two of her aunts had expressed surprise and disappointment that she had not brought a date to the wedding. An uncle asked if she was lining herself up for a promotion at work or not, and then criticized her lack of ambition, not seeming to understand that the café was so small it only had ten people on staff. There was nowhere for her to be promoted _to._

Her ability to deliver boring responses to questions ensured that interest had died down by the time she’d reached her old room. Left alone in there to unpack, she set her suitcase at the foot of the twin bed and collapsed onto it, lying on her back and gazing at the old popcorn ceiling. The room was mostly bare; she had brought everything that mattered when she moved, and had donated most of the things she left behind. Still, a few remains of her old life lingered. Biology textbooks sat stacked on their sides in the top shelf of her bookcase. A snowglobe from the Monterey Bay aquarium sat on her nightstand. She hadn’t necessarily wanted to keep it, but her mother had never given it away. She didn’t want to unpack her things, and she didn’t want to leave the quiet room, but she knew she couldn’t stay in here forever.

-

After a few days, (Y/N) had somewhat acclimated to sharing her living space with the rest of the family. One perk which living alone had not afforded her was that she hadn’t had to cook for herself all week. Even though she hadn’t had many stories to tell, there was plenty for her to listen to. Some of her cousins had gotten married since she’d last seen them, and they drifted in and out of the giant reunion more freely—they had gotten hotel rooms in the city to avoid crowding the house further. Nearly everyone encouraged her to move back into the house, or at least to move closer to the rest of the family. After all, one of her mother’s friends had recently gotten a job at some sort of research lab nearby, so couldn’t she come back home and work there? Several times throughout the week, this topic kept reappearing, the conversation always a near duplicate of what it had been the last time. 

The concept of living so close to family again didn’t necessarily bother her, but she didn’t feel a strong pull towards returning to the places she had already been. (Y/N) deflected these requests as well as she could, although she couldn’t share her most concrete reason for staying on the coast. Insisting that she was happy with her current job and had friends on the coast would have to be enough of a defense for now. Her relationship with Orm was what really kept the little town from feeling like a dead end. Any moments she had not spent in conversation this week, she had spent missing him. She was terrified that he would be gone by the time she came back, and that she’d have to continue missing him for however long he was away. She was certain of her feelings for him, and of his reciprocation, but too many other variables were uncertain in this equation. Whenever they discussed the future, it was with respect to either one of them individually. She had been afraid to formulate any expectations for their relationship, because so much of it felt out of her control. She suspected he felt the same. Even so, she wished she knew where and how their story would end.

Amidst this uncertainty, it was impossible to ignore why she was away from him the first place. The wedding was a few days away, and the main topic of conversation. She hadn’t been to a wedding since she was a child. She usually thought about them in the same way she’d think about frogs turning into princes or magic wands. They seemed like fairytale events, the trappings of some idealized world which existed totally separate from herself. This was not to say that she didn’t want to get married, it was just to say that the concept was outside of her expectations. To live in a house that was also occupied by boxes of physical wedding decorations took away from some of the mysticism that surrounded the subject. Tangible objects and real, living people would populate this wedding. It wasn’t a work of fiction, or something to experience secondhand, but something that was actually _happening_ to herself and to people she loved. She wasn’t entirely sure why, but the reality of it filled her with apprehension.


	36. Declaration

Observing the world shift beneath her through the oval glass panel, she kept an eye on the horizon ahead. Eventually the ocean would appear, first as a silver line, then a growing grey expanse. Sleep did not arrive for her on the return home.

It was difficult for her to abide the passing minutes until she could be back on the ground. Air travel had always been uncomfortable due to her own sensibilities about movement; she liked to feel that she was really getting somewhere. She liked to feel the movement of traversing some distance. In the air, everything felt so static, so artificial. The passing scenery outside affected her no more than the same images would on a television screen. It felt simulated.

Even so, she felt a jolt of excitement at her first glimpse of the coast ahead. In that moment, she could feel the forward motion.

-

She was coming home today. Orm had been keeping count faithfully, tallying the days left every morning when he woke up. This morning, he’d had to double-check that he hadn’t lost count somewhere, just to make sure he could be justifiably excited. He pictured the sight of her in the window, peering into the cove, the soft glow of light behind her. He could already picture the happy recognition on her face. Waiting for her to reach the cove would be the longest wait of his life.

In her absence, he had kept a sharper eye on palace happenings. If there had been any talk of sending him away for his first diplomatic errand, it had escaped his notice so far. He had no reason to believe that he wouldn’t see her tonight, but he had learned not to place heavy expectations on his own wishes until their fulfillment was guaranteed. It wouldn’t be the first cruel twist in his life if he were moved out of Atlantis before sunset. So he waited, suppressing his anxiety as much as possible, trying to fix his thoughts on anything other than Her.

-

She’d gone down to the cove earlier than usual that night. She had barely started unpacking her bags when she was distracted by the giant clouds hovering over the sea. Grabbing her camera, she left the unpacking for some other day to get pictures. The sheer rock walls of the cove created a contrast against the mellow sea and the formless clouds. As the sun sank, she sprawled on the sand, listening to the hushed sizzle of waves lapping at the sand near her bare feet. Closing her eyes, she could envision the white foam on the water’s shallow edge. Closing her eyes…

A splashing noise made her sit up straight. It was dark out now, nothing like the shell-pink sky when she’d had her eyes open what seemed like moments ago. On the edge of the beach, a figure—Orm—and at his feet, his lantern. Sand had splashed up his legs, as if he had dropped it there moments ago.

“What are you doing out here?” his voice trembled, as if she had startled him.

“I came down to watch the sunset,” she began. 

“You’ve been here that long? You’ve been sleeping that long?” he hustled towards her, leaving his lantern behind, as she got to her feet. Drawing near, he locked her in a tight embrace. “You shouldn’t have come out here without my signal,” he said. “You couldn’t have known whether I would still be around…” 

She pressed her cheek against his chest.

“Sorry, Orm. I forgot about that—I was so excited to be back home,” she exhaled slowly, lingering in his arms a moment longer. “I missed the sea. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He loosened his grip. “And I’m thankful you’ve come home safely.” 

She finally pulled away, reluctant to leave the hug so soon. Even with time to think on the flight, she hadn’t come to a decision on how truthful to be about her feelings towards him. Maybe a declaration of stronger commitment would soothe his nerves, but she felt it also had an equal chance of making him more anxious. Wasn’t it enough to be with him in the moment?

“How was your family?” he asked. 

“They’re doing well, and they expect me to be doing just as well,” she chuckled. “of course, I couldn’t tell them about the man in my life,”

“Even if you had, they wouldn’t have believed you,” he smiled, clasping her hand. “I suppose Atlantis truly is nothing more than a myth up here.”

“I’m glad that you’re real,” she said. “Or, I’m glad that I’m crazy enough to be hallucinating you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m very real,” he replied, grasping her other hand. “I wish we had some real music to dance to, though.”

“I’ll bring music for the next time we meet,” she replied. 

“You have an answer for everything,” he smiled. “You’d make a good queen.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that I didn’t know anything about being a ruler?” she countered, smirking back at him. 

“You misinterpreted; I meant that you don’t know what the finer details are like. Etiquette can be taught, but there are some things you need to be born with. Like confidence.” 

“You think I’m confident?” she laughed. It was not a compliment she had received very often.

“I think it’s your natural response. When you don’t have time to overthink something, you tend to respond more strongly,” he said. “and with more honesty. Sometimes it can be a little brutal.”

“Oh,” she trailed off. “That explains it.”

“What’s wrong?” he had felt a twinge of some negative feeling in her voice—disappointment, maybe? Or sadness?

“There’s something I’ve been overthinking recently,” she replied, hesitating. 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,”

“No—this is something I want to tell you.” Taking another breath, she said the words before she could reconsider them again. “Orm, I love you.”

Visible shock registered on his face, which she could see even in the faint moonlight. Followed by this was an expression of relief. 

“I love you too,” he replied, making up for his moment of shock with the sudden warmth in his voice. She pulled him into a second hug, burying her face in his chest. His arms hung at his sides for a moment, but his grip was tight and reassuring when he returned the gesture. There was no doubt in her mind now that the words could not be taken back. She had been right to say it. She wanted to remain like this for a long time.


	37. Pretense in Crisis

It was midday, and the palace was brimming with an unusual silence. In the morning, an envoy of the palace guard had been deployed to an emergency summit, accompanying King Orvax himself. The weathered tyrant on his haggard shark had left to answer a distress call so urgent, the only verified detail was that it had been made by King Nereus himself. Something had gone wrong in Xebel. Bringing only the most elite of the royal guard, Orvax had gone there to investigate the call for aid.

Orm had been left at home to look after the palace. After some deliberation, even Vulko had decided that it would be alright to leave the palace in Orm’s hands, and had gone with Orvax in case he would be more needed there. Orm was alone and totally in charge, for the first time in his life, and this sense of agency dispelled any of his immediate fears about what was happening in Xebel.

Knowing that his priority was to ensure the security of Atlantis, he sent word that the entire military should remain on standby, and he restricted the list of vessels which would be granted access through the city gate. Bringing a small troupe of guards with him, he personally saw that each order was fulfilled--quickly finding that asking others to do something for him was much more frustrating than doing those things himself. 

The work of ensuring that Atlantis was prepared for disaster consumed most of his thoughts. However, during free moments, he reflected on what he had said to (Y/N) only the night before: both that she would handle leadership well, and that he loved her. Both statements were true, evidenced by the fact that even in the midst of a crisis, he wished she was here.

Not that he needed help. _Obviously,_ he thought, _I’m well-equipped to handle this situation._ But her presence would always be preferable to her absence, and he felt that she wouldn’t need any help or guidance to operate in a scenario like this one; more than he could say for many of the people he had spoken with today. Nobody seemed to know how to react to the situation, although he was unsure whether the sudden nature of the emergency or his new and unattended presence as leader was the more jarring piece of the equation. Either way, he was unable to appreciate either the frantic hustle or the lack thereof in the attitudes of those around him. 

When he had finished visiting the necessary authorities, he returned to the palace. The easy part was over--he had done everything he could think of. Now came the difficult part. Now came the wait.

Something about the sight of Orvax’s empty throne disturbed him. Unable to reconcile himself to the thought of sitting upon it, but feeling awkward about settling into his usual spot—off to the side—he drifted on, through the throneroom into the next corridor. He had no way of knowing how soon anyone would return with updates, effectively confining him to the palace.

He hadn’t allowed any fear or anxiety to creep into the back of his mind while he was out giving orders, but in the stillness it was impossible to combat his worries any longer. His most immediate concern was for (Y/N). Despite knowing that he had control over the entire Atlantean military, he could never shake the fear that somehow, everybody knew where he was going at night, and who he was seeing, and how much she meant to him. He could never shake the fear that they would find her and hurt her. He hadn’t wanted to scare her the other night, but when he had found her lying in the cove, his first conclusion was _not_ that she had fallen asleep.

If he had shared his fears with her, would she be a little safer now?—Would she be more inclined to stick to land? Something told him that she was too stubborn for it to matter, and he tried not to dwell on it. She hadn’t disagreed with his plan, she had merely forgotten protocol that night.

Furthermore besides the most immediate implications of this arrangement, there was the fear that something catastrophic had occurred in the kingdom of Xebel. He needed his ally to thrive so that he could depend on an ongoing treaty with them once he ascended to the throne. And if there existed a threat that could endanger the military powers of Xebel, then Atlantis was under serious threat as well. His chest felt constricted with anxiety. He knew that in the long term, nothing good would come of this—but what he truly couldn’t handle was knowing that, in the immediate future, he could do nothing more.

\--

When Vulko approached alone, late that night, Orm feared the worst. However, both the trusted advisor and his mount made it into the palace grounds looking as undamaged as when they’d left that morning. 

“Your Highness,” came Vulko’s greeting as Orm swam out to meet them in the courtyard. “I have some news.”

“Is Xebel safe?” Orm asked, “And my father?”

“They are both safe. But the same cannot be said for Xebel’s northern territories.” Vulko took a moment to gather himself before continuing. “The surfacers have unleashed toxins into he ocean. There’s been a major oil spill. At the moment, we are unable to determine whether the act was premeditated, or simply the result of gross negligence.”

“Either way, this is only one of many infractions,” Orm sneered. If it turned out to be some sort of intentional assault, the war would begin much sooner than anyone had accounted for.

“I trust you’ve put our generals on standby?”

“Affirmative. They’re prepared for anything.”

“Orvax sent me here to fetch reinforcements. They’re attempting to clean things up for the time being, so we need a lot of men over there, but we also don’t know what the surface has planned. He instructed me to let you decide how many men follow me back, and how many are left to defend the city.” Vulko’s words were always measured, and the man rarely expressed strong emotion, but his placid nature was off-putting in this instance. Orm often wondered how he could remain so collected in times of uncertainty, and this was no exception. It was hard to gauge where his loyalties were truly anchored. Even if Orm had not known about Vulko’s odd ties to his bastard brother on the surface, he would have found it difficult to know what the old man was ever really thinking.

“Very well. Wait here, and I’ll send word to the appropriate generals.” Orm replied, practicing his own icy exterior. He fetched Dorci from the stables and made haste for the city’s fortress, where military leaders were currently standing by. Built into the city wall, it was a convenient stop on his way to the coast, where he was headed on his own business.


	38. Rendezvous

In his haste, he had forgotten to bring a lantern. Only when Orm arrived at the surface did he realize this mistake. If it were any other night, and relations between the surface and the sea were less tense, he might have considered shouting her name, but being above the waves now made him feel as anxious and vulnerable as it had the first few times.

There were small, smooth pebbles by the cliff face; not very many, but enough for a few shots at hitting her windows. He gathered a handful and worked through them one by one. They were so light, and moving his arm through the thin air felt unnatural. He was worried about throwing them too hard and damaging the house, or straining his shoulder with unchecked momentum, so he held back. The first two attempts fell short. His armor bit into his arm whenever he raised it over his head, not suited for this range of motion. Removing the shoulderplate and dropping it on the sand, he tried with another pebble. The increased mobility helped a little—this pebble hit the rim of the cliff and landed somewhere in the scraggly grass above. If he could just throw it a little further, and a little higher…

Two pebbles later, he was rewarded with the sharp click of rock on glass. The sound had echoed through the cove, but he didn’t know if she could hear it. As he was winding up to toss another pebble, the light in her room clicked on. Moments later, she was waving to him behind the glass, and then she disappeared and he was waiting again.

“You caught me at a good time,” she said once she’d brought the boat around. “I was just about to go to sleep, and you wouldn’t have been able to wake me up for _anything_ at that point.” He was unsure how to match her lighthearted tone this time. The sound of her voice felt so loud, the sound of her sloshing steps in the water felt too conspicuous, even though they were no different than usual. “Where’s your lantern?” she asked, again too loud.

“I forgot it,” he replied.

“Forgot it? You’re usually so prepared,” her eyebrows furrowed. “Orm, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just…” he wasn’t sure how to talk about it without sounding accusatory, without admitting he had come to bother her for intel. “There’s a situation going on elsewhere. There was something involving the surface.” It occurred to him that he had no idea where Xebel might be in relation to landmarks she would be familiar with. He knew he was being too vague. “There was an oil spill,” he finished weakly.

“That’s terrible,” she hesitated, fumbled over half-baked consolations to offer him. She hadn’t heard anything about an oil spill, but the café hadn’t had any news channels on, and she left her phone on the counter when she got home to take care of other things. “How long ago did it happen?”

“We heard about it this morning. Do you know anything about this?”

“No, I haven’t been paying attention to current events lately,” she felt her excuse was too weak, but it was the truth.

“So you don’t know if it…was intentional?”

“Orm, why would we do something like that on purpose?”

“You’ve never much cared for the ocean before. You’ll dump whatever you like directly into the waters, with no regard for my people—”

“Now hold on one minute, Orm. Just be logical for a moment. The surface relies on the ocean too. We wouldn’t do something that harmful on purpose, or we’d suffer for it too.”

“Not as much as we would.”

“Orm, nobody up here even knows that you exist. I have no defense for how other humans are treating the ocean right now—many of us ‘surfacers’ agree that it’s wrong. And we want things to change. To insinuate that we’d do something like this on purpose, let alone to aggravate a society we haven’t even discovered yet, is preposterous. You know it.” She hadn’t spoken with him like this in a long time. They hadn’t argued in months, since the first few times they’d bumped into each other.

“You’re awfully defensive. I didn’t accuse you, (Y/N). I simply asked if you knew whether or not it was premeditated.” She noted that he was purposefully trying not to raise his voice, although it seemed more out of fear that they would be discovered here than consideration for her. He had been jumpy and anxious since she arrived. Even now, he glanced around the cove walls from time to time, as if expecting to see something new emerge. More than anything, she suddenly felt bad for him. He’d probably risked his neck just to come out here. 

“I’m sorry. I guess I was just worried you’d find a way to turn this on me,” she sighed. “And I feel bad about it. I believe it was an accident, but I haven’t even heard about it from other people up here yet. So I don’t know, and neither do you, and we can’t come to a conclusion on it either way.”

“You didn’t need to worry about that. I wouldn’t have trusted you for information if I was going to blame you. It didn’t even happen remotely near here, so…I guess you’re right. Nobody knows anything yet. We’ll have to wait and see.” Throughout the conversation, he had been running his hands through his hair repeatedly as he spoke, pausing occasionally to press the heel of his palm against his forehead. Finally, she reached up and pulled his arm away from his head.

“You’re gonna go bald if you keep doing that, honey.” She teased. “I know you’re stressed, but there’s nothing we can do right now.” Seeing that these words didn’t seem to calm him, she added, “but I know that you’ll be able to do the right thing as soon as you see the opportunity for it.”

“Orvax hates your world. My people have been taught to hate yours. I’m not exactly fond of the surface either, but I know at least you’re different. It wouldn’t take much to be the catalyst for an all-out war…” he trailed off, moving both of his hands to cradle her face. 

“We can’t worry about that,” her voice was hushed. “We’ll sort it out if we have to, but for now you’ve got to keep a cool head. And so do I.”

“Didn’t you say that your family lives inland?” he said, after a moment’s thought.

“Yes.”

“I need you to go there if Orvax decides to launch an offensive.”

“Honey, we don’t need to talk about this right now—”

“Please just listen to me. I won’t worry about it if I know you have an escape plan.”

“I won’t leave unless I have to,” she sighed, “but I’ll go back to my family if I know there’s no chance for peace.”

“I’ll find a way to warn you. You might not have much notice—maybe not even a day to prepare. So just…be ready, until we know how this will pan out.” The pressure of his thumbs running along her cheekbones softened. “I won’t let him attack before you know what’s coming.”

“I hope to God it never even comes to that, Orm.” She was surprised to find less comfort in his promise than he had probably intended. Couldn’t he be tried for treason if he warned a member of the enemy about an upcoming attack? Would he even listen if she told him to keep away if things turned more hostile?

“What’s wrong now?”

“I just…I don’t know what they’d do to you if they found out about all this. What would I do if you came to warn me about an attack, and they caught you on the way back home?”

“They wont,” he replied. But beneath the confidence was a tone of grave resignation. She knew that he had already considered what would happen if they did catch him. Perhaps he had even accepted it.

“Just promise that you won’t trade your own safety for mine,” she said. “I can manage.”

_You’re only saying that because you don’t know what it would be like,_ he wanted to say. It was not his safety that he was concerned about—he knew how that war would end. He had always known. He wanted to scold her for underestimating how devastating an initial blow could be. It was a war he and his father had been strategizing for years. Even if they were to begin the fight on such short notice, they could make quick work of most coastal towns before the surface even had any idea of where the carnage was coming from. 

But she had just finished telling him not to worry about anything right now, and he felt that he could trust her to listen to him and escape in the event the war was hastened. At least then, she would have a chance. So he let it be.

“I won’t make you worry” was the only thing he could say.  
-

The next day, Orm was still awake. Having returned very late, to a hauntingly quiet palace, something imperceptible had still kept him on-edge until daybreak. Although he knew very well that the night patrols were keeping watch outside, he had managed to slip past them. One more watchful eye over Atlantis couldn’t hurt.

Orvax returned in the mid-morning, and immediately detecting his son’s exhaustion, relieved Orm of his duty as temporary ruler. The tyrant seemed unwilling to disclose any information until Orm had slept for long enough to process it, which meant that war was probably not imminent. With his fears somewhat eased, Orm found a way to sleep.

When he awoke again, no sooner had he left his bedroom when an attendant arrived with instructions for him. By now it was late afternoon, and the servant stressed that he should make hasty preparations for a journey to Xebel with his father, as they were leaving Atlantis once Orm was ready. This development left him feeling more exhausted than the sleepless night, but he complied.


	39. Cloud

Silence was what Orm had grown to expect of his father. It was a two-way street; silence was what Orvax gave, and for the most part, what Orvax demanded of his son. But the path to Xebel was long, and Orm knew his questions couldn’t wait until they arrived, so he spoke up.

“What is the situation, exactly?” he ventured. And then hastily added, “—Apologies. It’s just that I’ve heard very little by way of details.”

“You will see and assess it for yourself,” Orvax replied coolly, “but by my own evaluation, it’s…a disaster.”

“Were there any casualties?”

“Something like this wouldn’t kill us immediately, but the long-term effects could endanger everyone. Animals caught in the wake are dying right now, but we’ve got future disease to look forward to. It’s very likely that you’ll be watching the aftermath long after I’m gone and you’ve succeeded the throne.” Orvax sighed, a rare show of emotion. “Nereus is much closer to the epicenter. He’ll have a hell of a time if it spreads any further into the sea. But he’s still got some of his youth left to fight it…”

The old tyrant trailed off and Orm couldn’t delay his most pressing question any longer.

“Do we know whether or not it was intentional?”

“It’s still impossible to tell. You may not realize this, but it’s not the first time surfacers have gone spilling toxins into the sea. There were spills like this before you were born, just nothing so big.” Orvax seemed to ponder his next words for a moment before letting them go. “Even if it was premeditated, I don’t know if we should retaliate.”

“Why not?” Orm said, once he had processed the statement. He’d wondered if he had heard it correctly—and if so, how could he believe it?

“First, answer this question. Do you think we’re ready to take on the surface as we are now?” Orvax’s response was passive, almost disinterested. Orm couldn’t tell whether he was disappointed or not.

“I think…we could do it. Fighting only with Xebel at our side, we’d be at a numbers disadvantage, but we could still win.”

“Incorrect,” Orvax sighed. “And since you can’t seem to grasp it, I’ll tell you why. First, we need the support of the Brine and the Fishermen. It would be a nightmare to negotiate with either of them while fighting a battle with the surface, and yet we would need to retaliate swiftly if this was a real attack. There is one other reason,” Orvax paused, and as the silence dragged on, Orm felt compelled to say something.

“Is it because…maybe they’ve laid a trap?” he ventured, unable to come up with any ideas more likely.

“You’re close, at least. They could only attack if they know about us, and yet, they would have targeted Xebel or Atlantis directly if they’d known exactly where to strike.”

“So they’re baiting us? To get more information?”

“Exactly. I didn’t raise you to be this slow, young Prince. Maybe you’re less advanced in your learning than I had thought. Maybe I shouldn’t have even left you in charge the other day.” there was a note of melodrama in the old tyrant’s voice, something theatrical and mocking. Orm thought for a moment, and realized that however real Orvax’s disappointment might be, the wording was intended to garner some sort of spiteful response. He was being tested again, as always.

“Perhaps my zeal for my homeland drove me to foolhardiness,” he admitted. “I only want to protect Atlantis. I am grateful for your counsel, father.” Instead of giving a reply, Orvax simply nodded. Orm hadn’t taken the bait, hadn’t lashed out in indignance, no matter how cutting the words had been. He had passed. 

They, with their small group of bodyguards, pressed on in relative silence after that.

\--

When they had finally arrived in Xebel, it was sometime very early in the morning. Orm had fallen asleep multiple times on Dorci’s back, but he was still exhausted. 

They were ushered into the shell-like palace of Xebel by a handful of tired-looking serving staff, who were evidently the only inhabitants of the castle at this time. Orm was reluctant to leave Dorci with the stable-hands who had come to collect everyone’s weary mounts, despite knowing that the grooms here were well-acquainted with her kind. After all, this is where she had come from.  
Inside, the pale pink floors, polished smooth and pearlescent, reverberated every noise they made against the equally pink walls. This was some sort of reception hall, but it felt more like the inside of a clamshell. Small half-moon shaped windows situated around the upper half of the room would let some more light in once dawn arrived, which was just a few hours away. The travelers were led through this hall and down smaller branching corridors until they each had their own room. Instructed to rest as long as they needed, they were left to their own devices. Orm fell asleep before he had a chance to properly admire the white coral bedframe or round windows of the small room. 

\--

At some point, King Nereus had returned to the palace after overseeing damage control near the spill. Orvax, who had not slept, had joined him almost immediately. By the time Orm woke up, the two were deep in discussion. It was daytime again, but he couldn’t gauge how late in the morning it was, or how long the kings had been speaking. Attempting to attract their attention from across the room, he was able to make eye contact with Nereus, who merely nodded. 

Orm settled awkwardly at the edge of the room, tempted to sit on the floor. Before he could make a decision, the kings moved in unison towards the door, beckoning him to follow. Moments later, they were traveling again, towards the fringes of the spill. 

“We won’t go very far into the cloud,” Nereus broke the silence. “My men have been monitoring the perimeter, unable to venture inside. It’s growing slowly but steadily.”

“What of the creatures inside?” Orm asked.

“We were seeing schools of fish emerging from the cloud at the beginning. Many of them were coated to the gills. We’ve been catching some and trying to clean them off.” Orm still had difficulty picturing the cloud Nereus referred to, but he knew he’d probably do better not to ask about it. “The coral are probably dead.”

As they continued, a faint and sharp odor began to permeate the water. As if it had appeared instantaneously, a dark and nebulous cloud of opaque water had appeared before them. Had they been closer to the surface, the brown slick would have filtered the sunlight pouring down into a sickly yellow color. But at this depth, there was no light. Brown flecks the size of Orm’s fingernails began to float past, and the bitter smell was quickly becoming overpowering. Nereus halted, and so did his guests. Orm reached out to pluck one of the flecks from the water, and recoiled as the slippery, squishy thing hit his fingers. He gagged. 

“Alright, Prince Orm. If you were king, what would you do to fix this?” Nereus prompted. The massive cloud before them seemed to be advancing outwards even now, threatening to swallow them whole. Orm did not know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry--this chapter was a day late, and I feel like I've been making that an unfortunate habit. Thanks for your continued readership, though! I'll keep uploading weekly, ideally on Saturdays, but sometimes a few days late.


	40. Disintegrate

For days, the visiting Atlanteans had toiled, trying to prevent the effects of the spill. Tensions were high for the knowledge that the cloud continued to increase without any signs the oil was being stifled. Even worse was the uncertainty as to how this had all started, and why the surfacers had done nothing to fix it yet. This spill was different from those the older kings and advisors could remember.

Nereus had posited that a very likely reason to leave the well unplugged could be that the spill was an act of war, and that if left alone, the oil would eventually choke out life in the sea. Orvax had dismissed this idea—surfacers had no respect for the ocean, but they’d never willingly destroy a resource before they had bled it dry. The ocean surely had something to offer them, seeing as how it could still sustain the five remaining kingdoms. Orm was also unconvinced that the spill was intentional, although he knew he could never reveal what (Y/N) had insisted to him nights before. He wanted to believe her, even if he could not believe the rest of them. 

Solutions to the issue of containment had been proposed and tested, over and over, until exhaustion. After a few days of initial shock, Orm had been able to contribute two ideas.

The first solution concerned the schools of oil-slicked fish which had been emerging from the thick cloud of muck for several days. Although many of them arrived dead, floating outwards from the spill and settling close to the cloud perimeter, some still managed to survive by the time they reached clear water. It was apparent that they needed a way to remove the oil, and Orm proposed they use silk to clean the fish off. The thought had sprung from the abundance of banners hanging in Xebel’s palace, always tossing slightly in the currents. They had lined the ceilings of ballrooms and hallways, at first proving to be an annoyance to him—he wasn’t used to so much ambient movement. The palace in Atlantis was sparsely decorated, relying more on architecture to please the eye. But these sources of distraction had eventually prompted a useful thought—and although it was an imperfect solution for now, the banners were taken down and re-allocated to cleaning fish. Enough oil was wiped away that the creatures could breathe again, which was good enough for the moment.

The other solution, concerning the ever-advancing spread of oil, was tide manipulation. Although they possessed the capability to manipulate the tides on a mass level, the highborns of the ocean kingdoms usually held to an unspoken agreement not to use this capability. However, dire circumstances required extreme solutions—and they were not about to watch the oil creep outwards for days without doing something to prevent it. Although it required tremendous effort, the work of creating counter-tides to push the oil back was mostly successful. Patrols had been unable to enter the polluted water, so nobody knew exactly where the epicenter was. To keep from pushing the oil too far in any one direction, efforts were mostly made to contain the edges of the cloud within their current borders. It was exhausting work, and forced the royals into back-to-back shifts in the field. For the time being, there was nothing else they could do. It was all Orm could do to remain focused on his task when he was suspended in the blue, staring down the black cloud, concentrating on the movement of the ocean around him. 

One thing Orm had expected of his time in Xebel was that he might at least have a friend in Mera when he got there, but the arrangement for tide manipulation prevented him from interacting with anyone outside of shift changes. Because of her high aptitude for tide manipulation, she was arguably the most valuable on the front lines—driving her to exhaustion when she wasn’t working. Speaking with her always brought Orm back to their shared training under Atlanna, years ago, and now that he could somewhat understand what his mother felt at the time, there was less of a sting in his recollections of her. 

In fact, he had new reasons to try and recall time spent with his mother. For all her blind devotion to the surface—he still could not picture spending more time on land than was totally necessary, let alone living there—she might have been the key to his current personal dilemma. She was likely the only Atlantean who had ever considered a way to link those on land with those in the sea. The more he saw of the Surface’s actions, the less he could stand the thought of (Y/N) continuing to live there, continuing to pretend that things might improve. If there was any way to make her capable of living underwater, then he knew he had to find it. And he knew that Atlanna, of all those who had come before, would’ve been the only one who might consider trying something like this.

He realized it was very likely that Atlanna had never intended to remain in Atlantis, that she would have fled for the surface to return to her other family (he struggled to acknowledge them as her family, even though it was true) if it had been possible. However, perhaps she had been planning to outlive Orvax and bring the surfacers into the sea with her someday—when it was safer for them. Certainly, Orm’s birth had complicated her desires to return to the surface? Certainly, she wouldn’t have left him for her bastard son as soon as she could find a way out? It seemed to Orm more likely that she would want to share her home underwater with those she’d attached herself to on the surface. At least, for Orm’s purposes, this plan was the only useful one. 

In any case, Atlanna’s belongings had been destroyed after her banishment. None of her writings had survived, and only one of her personal objects had been saved; the pearl bracelet she had always worn, which Orm had stolen from her quarters before it could be destroyed with everything else. If Atlanna’s wisdom remained anywhere in the world, it was locked away somewhere in the memory of those who had been closest to her. Orm had repressed so much of her memory, and although he had dredged as much as possible back to the surface and sifted through every painful thought, he could recall nothing of use. He had hoped that maybe speaking to Mera might call something new back to mind, or prompt her to share her own memories, but that hope had been discarded in the face of the disaster. All he could do was sift through the same thoughts over and over, during his waking moments alone in the sea. 

Life carried on like this for three weeks. For three weeks, between sleeping and working, Orm could only spare momentary thoughts for (Y/N). During this time, and only during this time, did he believe it would be better for her on the surface. But as the oil spill receded, and Nereus deduced that the source had been stopped up, the sea felt almost safe again. When they returned to Atlantis, Orm could do little more but sleep. The crisis dealt with, his exhaustion could finally be tended to.

\--

It had been a month. She had been able to trace the progress of the spill as it moved through the gulf, on the southern end of the country, and every projected image of the oil’s spread had filled her with anxiety. Of course, the café had the TV constantly tuned to the news these days, monitoring the situation as it continued to spiral. More than once, she had shut herself in a restroom stall to take a moment alone because she couldn’t handle watching the same recycled footage of oil-slicked sea creatures dying en-masse. She had stopped checking the coast for his lantern after the first week. She knew he could not come back until the spill was stopped somehow. 

What worried her was his absence for two days after the spill had been stopped. She knew the problem was far from resolution, yet she had been telling herself for weeks that as soon as the engineers found a way to plug the leak, she would have him back. It almost didn’t seem real when she finally saw him standing on the beach again, lantern in hand. She was too numb to be excited for his return; inexplicably, her stomach was heavy as she went to meet him. He did not offer a hug, nor did he come to the boat to meet her. She set her teeth as she stepped into the water to approach him.

“I’ve been watching the spill—” she had barely begun before he interrupted. It was like she had opened a floodgate. 

“Of course you have. You all have,” he threw his arms in the air. “Three weeks. They let that poison flow for three weeks.” His voice was raised, but only slightly, so she knew he wasn’t so upset that he had abandoned all caution. “You’ve been watching the spill,” he scoffed.

“Orm, I’m sorry,” where he had spoken at a normal volume, she barely whispered. “I don’t condone anything about how we handled that. A lot of good people wanted to stop it sooner, there were activists, Orm, we tried,” this time she didn’t need to be interrupted to run out of words. There was nothing to say; she hadn’t come prepared for a debate.

“Did they even have a single person on the ground, working to clean this up? What did these activists do? What good were they?—And don’t lump yourself in with the rest of them.”

“Of course we had people working to clean it up. I’ve spent the past month watching people hand-clean the oil off of baby animals,” she spat. “It’s been awful. It’s all they show on the news. We all hate the situation.”

“I was there, (Y/N). If they hated the situation enough, they would have done something _sooner,_ ” he hissed. 

“The same could be said for you!” she fired back. “We aren’t even built to go underwater, so what did you expect? For us to fix it overnight? Why couldn’t you just do it yourselves?” 

“You caused all of this!” he shouted, then, realizing his mistake, he dropped his voice to a murmur. “You really must not understand, (Y/N), that the day we start cleaning up the Surface’s mess is the day the Surface falls. For good.” 

Of course, the threat had always been present. He had mentioned this concept, the idea of Atlantis striking back, in conversation before. Even when he had urged her to look after herself a month ago, had instructed her to move inland (as if his royal jurisdiction now somehow extended into her life!) if there was any sign of an attack from the sea. But it hadn’t felt real, hadn’t felt like the threat it was, until this moment—and her chest grew tight with his words, and the tension shattered outwards and made her feel numb all over again. 

More than anything, she wanted to believe that he was just speaking out of frustration right now, from outrage at what he had seen in the past month, but without any substance behind the threat. But it had been repeated so many times, and now directly towards her. She inhaled, her breath trembling, and prepared to lash out at him in some way—to keep arguing, or to tell him he was crazy, but she couldn’t form the words. Instead, the moment she opened her mouth, she began to sob. 

For several minutes, Orm stood in silence as she cried. The moment she broke down, all of the rage which had been burgeoning in him, prompting him to lash out further and further, had completely deflated. He had never made anyone cry before. He had never gone so far with his words to diminish someone to tears—the shame was overwhelming, and even worse for the fact that he knew he deserved it. She had tilted her face downwards, unable to even look at him, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. If he had attempted to comfort her, or speak to her, he felt she would have deflected him immediately. There was nothing he could do or say to recover. 

“I need you to leave,” after a few gasps, she could finally stop crying and speak again. Still glaring at the sand, still unable to look him in the eye, she continued, trying to relate what she had been thinking during the breakdown. “We’re both too close to this situation right now. Don’t come back until you can recognize who is at fault here, and who is not.” 

Although he knew she couldn’t see him, Orm nodded. Still clutching the lantern, he trudged down the beach and into the water, disappearing so quietly that she couldn’t tell whether or not he had really gone. She waited, not daring to take her eyes off the ground, until she was sure he wasn’t lingering, and until her vision was no longer blurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is two weeks late. I'm genuinely sorry for the delay--and I appreciate those of you who have still left kudos and comments since the last chapter. The past two weeks have been really hard for personal reasons, and usually I use this fic as an escape from reality, but I'm sure after reading this chapter you understand why it took me so long to get into the mindset to write it. We are entering choppy waters, my friends.


	41. Quest Interrupted

He had nobody to confide in. And despite not caring much about the opinions of the palace folk, he would have never wanted to admit to them how he had lost his temper. How he had made her cry. Although he couldn’t speak to anyone about it, he spent every moment trying to recall his exact words, pinpoint the moment his composure had fallen apart. More than anything, he ached at the knowledge that he could never take it back.

There was a guilt beneath the sorrow. He felt he’d given up the right to regret his actions the moment he pinned the issue on her. Truthfully, he hadn’t anticipated the argument, even though he’d felt a looming dread as he saw her in the window that night. It had felt wrong for him to be lingering on the surface like that, and strange to be seeing her after so many weeks detached from his old reality. He had wished there was any other way for them to meet, somewhere that felt less dangerous and open. Even though he recognized what had made him so anxious, he could find no excuse for how he’d handled the situation.

Her demand that he stay away until they had both found more stability was one thing he felt he must respect in order to seek peace, although the exile only forced his thoughts into an ever-tighter spiral. He only felt worse when he tried to picture how she might be feeling. Days wore on, and Orvax demanded very little of him—he seemed to be allowing the young prince to process the level of destruction they’d all witnessed in Xebel’s territory—and there was nothing to do but agonize over when to return to her. But as the days dragged on, the whole argument became more and more like a dream, an unfortunate side-effect of the spill. It was the day he felt numb that he knew he could at least have a rational discussion about it. 

Leaving that night felt more burdensome than usual. His limbs were still laden with the exhaustion of that constant work, even after days of trying to rest, and he hadn’t gotten re-adjusted to going out late at night. Even though sleep had been scarce since the argument, he hadn’t left the confines of his room. Leading Dorci from the stable, he felt a rush of anxiety at the thought of seeing her again. He didn’t want to lose his temper this time. He didn’t want to be cruel.

Gliding through the clear water felt dreamlike in itself. After so many outings to and from the cloudy, impending oil, he had forgotten what miles and miles of clear ocean could look like. It had always been his favorite part of the nighttime excursions before he started meeting her. Sometimes he’d happen upon abandoned architecture—remants of his own culture. The ruins were often peppered with sunken things from the surface world. Somehow, the surface had managed to imprint itself on every inch of his life. Though he, like his father, longed for the day his people could live unburdened by it, he could not imagine a life without its effects—most of which had only taken things away from him. In fact, there was only one good thing the surface had ever given him, and he was on his way to see if he couldn’t salvage that before she was gone too.

He surfaced a few leagues off the shore, his usual practice, to see if he could spot the lights of her windows on the cliff. There was nothing beautiful about her town; he had seen it in the fading light well enough to know that surface architecture was hideous in comparison to undersea towns. But there was something quietly charming about the town at night, when he couldn’t make out the structures themselves, but only the tiny twinkling lights. There were moments when he could bring himself to forget that each light belonged to a surfacer, and these were the times he enjoyed the view. Her lights were on, too, filling him with another jolt of anxiety. Orm reconsidered his trip to the surface again. Was this too soon? Would she even listen to him? He felt that, if he put it off any longer, he might never have the resolve to come back. Yes, he would—

“Orm.”

Panic flooded his mind. The sound had come from behind him. He turned, unsheathing a dagger from its hidden hilt on his thigh. A figure had surfaced soundlessly there. When he recognized the figure as Vulko, his fear only increased.

“Put the weapon away.” Vulko’s voice was gravelly and unbothered. There was no emotion in the old man’s eyes, to Orm’s confusion. Orm hoped that he, himself, had not betrayed any emotion on his face—although, having been caught off-guard, the chances were low that he’d remained stoic.

“You followed me?” Orm could think of no other response.

“I know why you’re here. And it isn’t going to do you any good.” Vulko was still hanging back, and Orm realized it was because he had not yet put the dagger away. He brought it back to his sheath. _So he’s this distrustful of me? Does he know that I’m aware of his connections to the surface?_

“Vulko, I can explain—” 

“Your brother isn’t interested in Atlantis.” The revelation hit him, flooding him with relief. _He thinks I’m here for that bastard!_

“He’s a threat to the throne,” Orm replied. “And with the oil spill, we can’t afford to have someone here with divided loyalties—” _It’s a good thing I have such a solid excuse,_ he thought; _the timing couldn’t have been better._

“Come home. You can’t do anything to him up here. You’re out of your element.” Vulko remained nonplussed. As Orm had come to grasp in the previous months, his half-brother was probably living somewhere far away from here. (Y/N) had been unable to recall anything in the vicinity that matched his description of the lighthouse he had watched Vulko approach that night. The old man was this collected only because Orm was so far off the scent. 

“And wait to see if he brings the fight to me?” 

“Why would he? We can’t even find him. Your mother left no records betraying his location. If he hasn’t sought us out, he probably knows nothing of our existence.” _That’s a lie,_ Orm thought. But he could think of nothing to say. “Orm, why would you betray your existence to him, when he might not even know who his mother really was?” There was reason in Vulko’s argument. He couldn’t deny that. 

“You may be right,” the prince replied. 

“Come home, Orm.” 

“I won’t always have to do as you say,” Orm sighed. 

“That may be true, but you have to listen to me now.” Orm lowered his head, fiddling with Dorci’s reins in his hands. With one last glance at the surface, he turned the dragon around and submerged again, with Vulko at his heels. He might have imagined it, but he could’ve sworn that he saw the lights in her house shut off just before he turned away. There would be no amends tonight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is not dead! My upload schedule has gotten a little unpredictable for the past few chapters, and may continue to be this way for a little while. But to give some peace of mind, I estimate it will take about 10 more chapters to finish the story. The ending has been planned out for roughly a month, and now it's just a matter of executing it well. 
> 
> I want to thank returning readers for their patience. I'll do my best to write a satisfying ending for you all ^^


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